Death Before Dishonor
by Robin4
Summary: After being rescued from the Dursleys by Sirius, Harry finds that there are still plenty of ways for Voldemort to catch him--and that his life may have to be bought at a very high price. Set in 5th year and the summer before it. Ch 29 up, and complete!
1. Prologue

Death Before Dishonor

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## 

### Prologue

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### August 22nd

_ _

_Dear Sirius,_

_I didn't want to tell you this, because I was afraid that you'd come here and get caught by the Ministry of Magic or by the Muggle police, but I think I have to._

_It all started about a month ago when Aunt Petunia met some man at the library.I don't know why she was there, really, but she made friends with the guy.She introduced him to Uncle Vernon, and they've all gotten along fabulously.I guess it took a few weeks before she mentioned me by accident.And then, Aunt Petunia said to Dudley (when she told him, and I overheard), a wonderful thing happened._

_The man says he knows me, Sirius.He says he's some friend of my parents' from school, and offered to take me in when Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley go on vacation in a few weeks.Of course I'm not invited, but who wants to visit some ruddy theme park anyway?But I'm getting off topic.He said that he'd take care of me for the week and a half they will be gone.It wouldn't be a problem, and he'd love to take me in; he said that it would be great to see James' son again since they were such wonderful friends at school._

_Now, I don't know how many "wonderful" friends you guys had at school, but unless this is you or Professor Lupin, there is something wrong.I can always hope that it is, but I have a feeling you'd have told me about that!And I don't think it's anyone from Hogwarts, because Professor Dumbledore would have let me know, too.And even then, the only other person I can think of from your year is Snape, and he certainly wouldn't call himself my dad's friend!I think he'd rather call himself my father's mortal enemy.Besides, Aunt Petunia would hate him.She'd say he's greasy and needs to take a shower, which is undoubtedly right._

_I think it's Wormtail._

I don't know who else it could be, Sirius, and I'm scared.I don't know what to do.They told me that I'll be staying with a "friend," and I heard Uncle Vernon say under his breath that he hopes the guy will keep me.I asked if I couldn't go to Ron's house instead, but they said no.That would be ungrateful, and I can't turn down this kind offer.

_So now I have to go to his house tomorrow.They just told me this morning; this was the first chance I got to write.I don't know what to do, Sirius.If I run, Voldemort will certainly find me, but what if it is Wormtail?What do I do?I hope you get this fast._

_ _

**_Harry._**

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**Author's Note: This being my very first HP fic, I would appreciate all the feedback I can get.I've been writing for years now, and am working on my own novel, entitled _Night Rider_, so I've been around the block…just happened to get bit by the Harry Potter bug only recently.Thanks for reading, and please review.**

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**Disclaimer: I don't own them…I just like to play.I promise, though, that I'll put the toys back in the box when I'm done playing.Really, I will.**


	2. Light In Darkness

Death Before Dishonor

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## Chapter One:Light In Darkness

The door to the Headmaster's office burst open, making Arthur Weasley twist in his chair.He hadn't even heard the gargoyle move, which was strange enough in itself, but he'd thought that the entire faculty and staff of Hogwarts had enough respect for the Headmaster that they wouldn't simply rush into his office without an invitation or at least a word of warning.Upon seeing that it was only Professor Snape, he immediately relaxed, although an uncontrollable frown creased his features.

Arthur sat back, and forced himself to appear calm.Inside, though, he was fuming.The last thing the Order of the Phoenix needed was interruptions during the few meetings their members had—and especially interruptions by Severus Snape!_Sometimes I wonder why Dumbledore keeps him here.He's positively horrid to any students who aren't his own House—I might not have believed Fred, George, or Ron about him, but I certainly believe Ginny and Percy!Not only that, but rumors say that the man is a _Death Eater—

Then Dumbledore moved with a kind of speed that Arthur never thought he possessed, rising, darting around his desk, and catching Snape as the Potions professor collapsed.

"Severus?" The other's body convulsed, and Arthur winched to see the pain on his abnormally pale face.

Dumbledore gestured quickly with his wand—Weasley hadn't even seen him take it to hand—and a nearby couch slid over to where the Headmaster supported Snape.Gently, Dumbledore lowered both himself and the Potions Master to the couch, using another flick of his wand to levitate Snape's legs, black boots and all, onto the couch.Holding Snape's head in his lap, the Headmaster asked gently:

"Cruciatus?"

Snape nodded, coughed.His body seemed to jerk in pain.Dumbledore laid a gentle hand on his forehead, and, watching speechlessly, Arthur noticed that the other professor was shaking.

"How many times?"

Snape shuddered."Lost count."

"I'm sorry."Concern made the Headmaster seem even older than Arthur Weasley knew he was.But Snape grimaced at the regret in Dumbledore's voice.

"Not your fault."He coughed again and blinked once in obvious pain."My choice."

Dumbledore sighed softly."I suppose now is not the time to argue that point._Accio Potion._"A small silver vial landed in the old wizard's hand immediately.The Headmaster raised Snape's head carefully. "Drink this."

Snape scowled."I didn't make that."

"No," Dumbledore replied softly."I did."

Arthur's eyebrows rose.He'd never known Albus Dumbledore to be much of a potions maker.Of course, the man was an extremely powerful wizard, able to do just about whatever he pleased—but everything Arthur had ever heard about him said that he hated potions work.Yet here he was, offering a hurt—_tortured_—Severus Snape a potion he had made._ _

"What for?"There was much pain in Snape's voice, but he peered at Dumbledore with something akin to his old cynicism and suspicion.

"I had a feeling you would need it.Drink."

Like an obedient student, Snape drank, and Arthur had to remind himself that Snape _had _once been one of Dumbledore's students.For that matter, so had he.Listening to Albus Dumbledore came as naturally as breathing.It just seemed so strange to see Snape give into anyone.But the Headmaster was still speaking.

"Now rest.It will be a few minutes before the potion takes affect."

"No."Snape shook his head, and then seemed to regret it as he winced in pain.His next words came out in a gasp."No time."Suddenly, his head turned and his eyes focused on Arthur with all of their old coldness and mistrust.

"Arthur can be trusted," Dumbledore said softly, but Snape's icy gaze still made Arthur bristle.At least _he _wasn't rumored to be a Death Eater!The nerve…!

But Dumbledore's calm eyes kept him from saying a word in response, even when the Potions master mumbled, "You're sure…?"

"Positive.Arthur has been working for the Order of the Phoenix in the Ministry for some time now."The Headmaster studied Snape's face."You are worried, Severus."

"Voldemort…" Snape closed his eyes briefly, and his voice seemed to be getting weaker."He's found a way to get Potter."

"What!" Arthur was on his feet.He couldn't help it.Harry was Ron's best friend; besides, he cared for the poor boy.Harry didn't deserve to be made the Dark Lord's victim again.He didn't deserve any of this.

Both professors ignored him.Dumbledore asked, "How?" 

"Wormtail," Snape snarled.But even his that had little of its usual potency.He was definitely in pain.The Potions Master shuddered again.

"Severus…"

"No time.Important," Snape wheezed, then coughed.For a moment, Arthur was afraid that the man would actually throw up, but Snape seemed to gain control of himself before continuing."Wormtail made friends with Potter's infernal…relatives.Said he was an old friend of Harry's father…the bastard."Neither Arthur or Dumbledore was willing to ask if the last remark was aimed at Wormtail or at James Potter; both merely waited as Snape coughed, convulsed, and then continued."Going to take…Potter…when the idiots go on vacation."

"What?" Dumbledore's eyes flashed a split second, and Arthur saw a frightening kind of anger in them—and incredible power.As soon as both had appeared, though, they were gone, and the Headmaster was his normal, mild-mannered, self.

Snape finally seemed to suck in a deep breath."They leave tomorrow."

"How do you know this?" Arthur demanded.How could _anyone_ know The Dark Lord's plans?And how could Dumbledore trust anyone who did?The Headmaster opened his mouth to reply, but Snape's irritated snarl cut him off.

"Fool," the Potions Master cursed.Then, without even bothering to look at Arthur, he pulled back the left sleeve of his robes with a shaking hand."You know this?"

Arthur's jaw dropped, and a cold ball of ice formed in his stomach.Oh, he knew that… "The Dark Mark."It was a long moment before he trusted himself to speak through his shock.He had just been _shown_ the Dark Lord's mark by a _Hogwarts_ professor… "You're a Death Eater!"

"Yes."

Snape seemed to slump in exhaustion, compelling Dumbledore to gently pull the sleeve of his robe back forward, covering the burning black mark on the other professor's forearm.Only after he had finished rearranging Snape's robes did the Headmaster look up at Arthur.Their gazes met, and again, Weasley was astonished by the power radiating from the old man.

"Severus _was_ a Death Eater.He still _is _one of Voldemort's most trusted Lieutenants," Dumbledore said levelly."But he has been working for me since before Voldemort's first fall."

Arthur felt his eyebrows rise skeptically.He could not help it.He did not want to doubt Dumbledore's word, but he knew, he _knew_, those that went over to the Dark Side did not come back.And Snape…Snape's personality fit the Death Eater mold perfectly: cold and cruel, unfair and unkind… Seeing his look, Dumbledore continued, his voice softening slightly with compassion that Arthur knew was not intended for him.

"Severus _also_ knows more about the inner workings of the Order of the Phoenix than you do, Arthur.If he wished to betray us, many people, including myself and your wife, would be dead by now.He has undertaken this role at great personal risk.I trust him.As should you."

"Then how did this happen?" Arthur demanded, gesturing at the Death Eater's still shaking form.

Snape's growl forestalled any answer from Dumbledore."Fun," he snarled."For the sheer and utter enjoyment of it.I _like _getting nailed by a dozen or so Cruciatus curses.It keeps me on my toes."

"Severus…" Dumbledore looked back down at him with disappointment on his face, and Snape winched.

"Sorry, Albus."

Arthur gaped.He had never, _ever_, heard Professor Severus Snape apologize to anyone for anything.He hadn't thought it possible—but now Dumbledore's suddenly cold eyes were focused on him again.

"Severus walks a very fine line as a double agent," the Headmaster said softly."As such, he cannot succeed in every task Voldemort gives him…and failing the Dark Lord demands a high price.Too high."

At Dumbledore's words, Snape closed his eyes, and Arthur heard him mumble something, but was certain he had heard wrongly.It had sounded like Snape said _Not for me_, under his breath; whatever it was, Dumbledore looked at him sharply.

"Can I get up now?" Snape asked suddenly, seemingly realizing for the first time that he laid on his back upon the Headmaster's couch, with his head in Dumbledore's lap.In any other circumstances, Arthur would have found it highly amusing._Snape was helpless._At the moment, though, it was merely saddening.Especially if Dumbledore was telling the truth.

And in his heart, he knew that Dumbledore _had _to be, else he'd not be holding a Death Eater in his arms as the man shook off—_dozens?_—of the Cruciatus curse.Surely he'd been exaggerating.

"No," the Headmaster replied softly in response to Snape's question.

"Albus…" Some of the old tenacity was back in the Potions Master's voice, and Arthur did not know what that made him smile.

"Do you feel like you can stand without falling yet?" Dumbledore countered.

"No."

There was silence.Finally, Snape's shaking finally seemed to abate slightly, but he did not argue, and his admission of his own weakness seemed to take all other strength out of him.The other professor simply lay still, breathing slowly, and obviously waiting until the potion Dumbledore had given him could take affect.The quietness continued for several long minutes, and Arthur felt uncomfortable breaking it, but he had to as a horrible thought occurred to him."Uh…I don't mean to interrupt, Professor, but what about Harry?"

Dumbledore looked up."I will deal with that."

"I could—"

"No, Arthur."But the Headmaster softened his refusal with a slight smile."I do not doubt your ability to aid Harry, but I need to send those whom Voldemort is already certain are on my side.And it is best that you do not know who," he added, forestalling Arthur's next question.

The other wizard nodded, but before he could say anything more, Snape spoke softly from behind closed eyes. 

"Albus…"

"Yes?"

"Tomorrow… I am to go with those who retrieve Potter from Wormtail," he said quietly."Myself, Malfoy, and others…Voldemort does not trust Wormtail to complete his mission alone."

"Can you sabotage them, then?" Arthur asked hopefully.But it was Dumbledore who answered.

"No."Snape looked at him, and one black eyebrow rose."No, Severus," the Headmaster repeated."You and I both know that would place you in too much danger, especially after your failure to accomplish your last mission for him.I will not have you killed needlessly."

"I can delay them."Snape sighed."Maybe."

"Carefully," Dumbledore added.

"Whoever you send had best be able to think quickly, then," Snape replied."_And_ they had better be very powerful."

"I have just the person in mind."Arthur could have sworn Dumbledore smiled for a moment, and it was something he had never seen from the kind old wizard before.It certainly wasn't a nice smile."When are you to retrieve Harry from Wormtail?"

"After dark.I don't know when Wormtail is going to get Potter."

"You ought to get some rest, then."

"I know."Snape sat up gingerly, and this time Dumbledore did not stop him.Rather, he rose and helped the younger man to his feet.

"Can you make it to your chambers alone?" he asked.

"I'll survive," Snape replied, and suddenly, his eyes looked haunted."I always do."

Without a further word, the Potions Master made his way to the door and exited the Headmaster's office, moving stiffly, but otherwise normally.Dumbledore watched him as he left, his eyes dark with worry.The professor remained still for several moments after the door slid shut, then finally tore his gaze away from it and moved back around his desk.Silently, he took a piece of parchment from a drawer and began to write.His hand moved quickly, and the letter must have been relatively short, because within thirty seconds he had finished, rolled up the parchment, and sealed it.He then turned to the scarlet and gold phoenix who had watched all from his perch.

"I need you to take this to Padfoot, Fawkes," Dumbledore said, offering the scroll to the phoenix, who took it immediately."Quickly."

After a soft noise of acquiesce, the phoenix was gone.For a moment, Arthur watched the scarlet and gold figure as it disappeared out the window and over the horizon, flying more gracefully than anything he had ever seen before.Finally, he spoke.

"I wasn't aware that phoenixes delivered mail."It was so irrelevant, but he had to say _something._

"Most do not," Dumbledore replied lightly."But Fawkes understands, and he can move much faster than any owl."

"Right," Arthur breathed, feeling slightly queasy.The lump of ice in the pit of his stomach still had not melted.He was worried about Harry, worried that Wormtail—whoever he really was; no one ever seemed to speak his real name when Arthur was around—would get to Harry before Dumbledore's people.He couldn't bear the thought of that innocent boy used as the Dark Lord's pawn again.Harry didn't deserve it.He just didn't deserve it."Uh…Professor, are you sure that you can trust Snape?"

"Certainly."Dumbledore looked at him strangely.

"But he's a Death Eater," Arthur objected, and then as one silver eyebrow rose expectantly, he corrected himself."Was a Death Eater."

"And no one is more aware of that than Severus Snape," the Headmaster replied softly."He has spent years trying to atone for crimes that he feels can never be paid for.And he has taken great risks to help us."

"But what if…?"  
"What if he's working for Voldemort?" Dumbledore finished for him."He is not.Were he, this school would have been laid open to Voldemort a long time ago, and I, at least, would most certainly be dead.I trust Severus, Arthur, and so must you.And I must ask you not to tell _anyone_ of this.His life depends upon it." 

Arthur nodded.He might not trust Snape, but Dumbledore did, and that was enough."Are you sure that you do not need anyone else to go get Harry?"

"You cannot go," Dumbledore told him once more."Nor can I.We both have business at the Ministry, and—" he smiled, but Arthur felt he was anything but happy "—speaking of which, we must be going."

"Right."

But the chunk of ice still resided in Arthur's stomach.And it was getting colder.

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**Author's Note: Again, thanks for reading—and please, please review!I'm writing as fast as I can, because this story is just flowing out of the fingertips right now, but reviews are positively the most motivating thing on the planet, so please send a few flying my way.Thanks again!**


	3. Darkness Encroaching

Death Before Dishonor

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## Chapter Two:Darkness Encroaching

"Mail," Sirius Black said absently as the owl landed on the windowsill, hardly bothering to look up from the _Daily Prophet._He was settled comfortably in a chair at the kitchen table, slouched down and looking nothing like a convicted murder—which, technically, he supposed he was not, since he'd never really been _convicted_ of a damn thing—and feeling as lazy as humanly possible.It was nice to be able to relax.

"Will you get it?" called the voice from the next room even as the owl squawked impatiently."It's probably for you anyway."

"Sure."Sighing, Sirius put the newspaper down.Only then did he glance at the snowy white owl who was glaring at him irritably."Hey, it's Hedwig."

"Told you it was for you."

"Oh, go fall off a broomstick."Sirius reached for the letter, smiling.This was sooner than he had expected Harry to write, but he always loved to hear from his godson.He just wished he could see him more—"_Oof!"_

Suddenly there was a phoenix in front of him.Rather, there was a phoenix practically in his _lap_.It stared at him expectantly."Uh…Hello?"

Vaguely, Sirius remembered that the phoenix was named Fawkes and it belonged to Albus Dumbledore.But what was it doing _here_?Had something happened to Dumbledore?It made a soft noise, jerking its head upwards, and Sirius noticed the letter it held."For me?"

The phoenix stared at him.

Sirius might have been a lot of things, but he was far from stupid.Reaching out carefully—bird-like creatures had never been his specialty, and Buckbeak had taught him caution the hard way (but, hey, dogs _liked_ to chase birds!)—he took the letter.And nearly dropped it.

_August 22nd _

_Dear Padfoot—_

_ _

_Get Harry now.Keep him safe.I haven't the time to explain._

_ _

__**_Dumbledore_**

"Remus…?"Worry seized up in his chest, and he could barely get the word out.

Suddenly, Lupin was at his side."What is it?"

Wordlessly, Sirius passed the letter to his friend.A distant corner of his mind noticed that his hands were shaking, but he didn't care.The rest of his brain was whirling, planning, preparing…and throwing any care for personal risk out the window that Fawkes and Hedwig had flown in._Hedwig!_Leaping forward, he grabbed the letter tied to the snowy owl's leg and tore it open.His eyes flew over the words as Sirius prayed that he wouldn't be too late.Remus' hand tightened on his shoulder.Their thoughts aligned perfectly.

"Bastard," Sirius hissed.

"I'll go with you."Lupin's voice was as choked as his own, but Sirius looked over at his friend.

"You can't," he said softly, and watched anger tighten Lupin's features."There's a full moon tonight, Remus."

Pain flickered across Remus Lupin's face, replacing the anger; worry followed quickly on its heels.A month in the same house had melted away the barriers built from thirteen years of separation, and the two friends could read one another like they could in their Hogwarts days—moreover, Sirius understood Lupin's self-loathing in moments like these, when something that his friend could not change kept him from doing things he felt had to be done.Reaching up, Sirius placed a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"It's not your fault, Moony," he said gently."I'm only sorry I can't be here for you.I would love to wrestle a werewolf again, you know." 

"I know," Lupin replied, smiling slightly."But Harry needs you.Just don't do anything stupid, Sirius."

"Stupid?" A grin threatened to worm its way onto his features, and Black struggled to control it for a moment before finally giving up."Me?"

"Yes, you." Remus stared at him."Like Apparating."

"How else am I supposed to get there quickly enough?" Sirius challenged him, moving quickly around the room and grabbing his robes off of the counter where he had dropped them carelessly before breakfast. "We're not exactly in Britain right now, Moony."

The werewolf scowled."The Ministry of Magic is still looking for you, Sirius.They've probably got searching spells focused on you.The moment you Apparate, they're sure to know."

"Oops."But his innocent shrug did the trick, and Remus' expression changed from simple worry to pure exasperation.

"You're an escaped convict, you daft stray!" he exploded."You can't wander around wearing a sign that says 'arrest me' and expect to rescue Harry at the same time!"

Sirius smiled and pulled his robes on."How long do you think it will take them to figure where I went?"

"At least an hour," Lupin admitted.

"Well, I certainly don't plan on spending more than an hour with Lily's _engaging _sister.I met her before, remember?Not a pleasant experience."

"Neither was you popping out of Lily's fireplace, I suppose," Lupin replied dryly.

"Couldn't help it.I had to get to her before James did, and I wasn't about to Apparate without a license_._"

"Oh, why not? Afraid of breaking the law, are we, Padfoot?"

"Nope.Just didn't feel like getting splinched.It's one thing to be a dog.It's quite another to end up in several pieces scattered across the country."Sirius reached inside the left pocket of his robes and withdrew his wand."Not like that's a problem nowadays, of course."

"No, you're more likely to end up back in Azkaban."But there was no argument in Remus' voice.Rather, there was only resignation.

"This is worth it," Sirius replied._Harry's worth any risk, even going back to that evil place._So long as he could save his godson, he really didn't care what happened to him.Besides, without Harry, his life was worth nothing.

"Yes, it is," Remus agreed seriously."I wish I could go with you."

"I know."He smiled slightly."Write to Dumbledore for me, will you?Tell him I'm on my way."

"Yeah."The dull reply did nothing to hide the sadness in Lupin's eyes, and Sirius strode forward, once again placing a hand on his best friend's shoulder.

"Find me when you can, Remus," he said."We've got nine days until Harry has to be on the Hogwarts Express.I don't know where I'll be all that time, but I'm sure you can find me, if anyone can.I'll leave him with the Weasleys for the train ride, unless that proves impossible, so if all else fails, meet me there."

"I will."Remus touched his shoulder, and then glanced down at the wand in Sirius' right hand."You know, it's a good thing that Dumbledore got that for you."

"He said I'd need it.He's usually right."

Lupin snorted."I don't even want to know how he got it.Sometimes, I think he puts even the Marauders to shame."

"He's the trickiest man I know," Sirius agreed."Including myself._Accio Firebolt._"

"You have no idea," Lupin suddenly grinned."You'd better go, now, Sirius.But remind me to tell you later about how I think Dumbledore is blackmailing Fudge."

His jaw dropped open in the very act of catching the broom.Although not as good as a flying motorcycle, a Firebolt came damn close. "Blackmailing the Minister of Magic?"

Remus grinned."Later.Go, Padfoot.Fetch Harry."

"Ha, ha.Funny."But that was all Sirius had time to say before he vanished.

Harry sat on his bed, staring out the window.At least there weren't any bars on it, now—the Dursleys still got nervous over the mention of Harry's murderous godfather.Unfortunately, they still weren't anything approaching _nice_, but at least they ignored him most of the time.He'd had a rough first month with them because of the Floo-Powder incident with the Weasleys, and, of course, the small matter of how big Dudley's tongue had gotten…but things weren't too bad now.The Dursleys had returned to their constant state of paranoia, again, and were still afraid of his powers (despite the fact they _knew _he couldn't use magic outside of school), but at least they let him have his trunk and his books in his room.

Harry sighed and shuddered involuntarily.Being able to do his homework wouldn't help him a bit if he ended up in Voldemort's hands again.He didn't know what to do_._Dumbledore had said he was safest with his blood relatives—something about that protecting him—so he didn't dare leave until he _knew_.Of course, it was quite possible that the stranger they were going to leave him with was some other old friend of his parents' whom the Headmaster had sent to watch over him, but Harry did not think that was likely.First of all, he felt pretty sure that Dumbledore would have told him about it if that were the case.And second, he didn't know of any other "old friends" of his father's whose name was Peter.

Aunt Petunia had told him it would be a surprise to find out who it was, but he'd heard her mentioning a Peter to Uncle Vernon when they'd thought he wasn't listening.If he was right, Aunt Petunia's surprise would prove to be rather nasty, and he didn't want to think about what would happen.Or what Voldemort would do to him.

Harry shuddered again.It wasn't that he thought his uncle and aunt would knowingly give him to a dark wizard who wanted nothing more than to torture Harry—eventually killing him, of course—but he knew they'd jump at any chance to leave him behind for the week and a half they would be gone.He wondered if they realized he wouldn't be there when he got back. _Knock, knock._

"Dudders, honey, can you get the door?"Aunt Petunia's voice drifted up the stairs, and Harry frowned._Great.It's probably Dudley's friends, here to pick on me again._

"Make Harry do it," Dudley whined.

"Absolutely not!" Uncle Vernon roared, probably from the kitchen."I will not have the neighbors seeing that freak!"

_Knock, knock, KNOCK._

"Yes, Dad."There was silence for a moment—Dudley really was losing enough weight so that the whole house didn't shake as he moved—and then Harry heard the door open.

Dudley screamed.

Harry jumped, then, with curiosity overcoming his common sense, bolted out of his room and down the stairs.On his way, he heard Dudley screaming "Mummy, Mummy!" over and over again, and heard Aunt Petunia shriek.He almost collided with a fleeing Dudley as he approached the door—anything that made Dudley scream _had _to be good.He started to grin, but then a terrible thought occurred to him.What if it wasn't good?What if it was something terribly bad, like Voldemort?Instinctively, his right hand moved for were his wand would normally be kept in his robes, but there was nothing there.Harry was dressed in Muggle clothing, and his wand was in his room, locked in his truck where Dudley couldn't grab it for fun.

_Oh, no._

A figure dressed in black robes stepped inside the door now that Dudley had vacated the doorway.Harry's heart skipped in his chest for a moment as he stared at the tall, black-haired figure—he was so different from when Harry had seen him last, seemed so much healthier—but then his face split into a grin as he recognized his godfather.Harry opened his mouth to speak, only to be cut off by Uncle Vernon rushing from the kitchen.

"Oh, no you don't!" Vernon Dursley bellowed, shotgun in hand."I will not have freaks in my house!Get out!"

Very calmly, Sirius Black stepped forward and closed the door behind himself."Put that away."

"GET OUT OF MY HOUSE, FREAK!"

Sirius cocked his head, and then switched his wand to his left hand, extending his right with a slight smile."Well, I don't believe we've been introduced," he said evenly."My name is Sirius Black.I'm Harry's godfather."

Aunt Petunia screamed.Dudley, cowering behind his mother, wailed.And Uncle Vernon cocked the shotgun.

"MURDERER!Get out of my house before I call the police!"

"Very well," Sirius sighed, and waved his wand slightly."_Deletrius_."

The shotgun (the replacement for the one Hagrid had bent all those years ago) disappeared.Uncle Vernon howled in impotent fury.Harry had to laugh.

"Sirius!" Fifteen years old or not, Harry leapt forward to hug his godfather, but was hauled to a stop by Uncle Vernon's grab for his shoulder.He twisted away, but it was no good.Uncle Vernon was a great deal larger than him, and seemed determined not to let go.

"You're not going anywhere, boy!"

"Let go of Harry."Sirius' wand was in his right hand again, and his eyes were deathly serious, with none of the mild amusement he'd shown before.

"You," Uncle Vernon began, his voice quavering slightly, "are not welcome in this house.Get out."

"I am not going anywhere without my godson."

"Get out!"

Harry looked up."Uh…Uncle Vernon, it's not a good idea to make him mad, you know."

"Shut up, boy!" 

"I just wanted to say—"

"I said shut up!" Uncle Vernon's hand rose, and Harry flinched, waiting for the blow to fall.

It never did.

Another hand had caught Uncle Vernon's meaty fist, and suddenly, Harry's uncle found himself standing face to face with Sirius Black, who, although a great deal thinner than Uncle Vernon, had obviously paid attention in his classes on physical fitness.Through the hand on his shoulder, Harry felt Uncle Vernon shudder, and he stared up at the two men as Sirius' dark eyes bored into the older man.Uncle Vernon's lips moved, and he made some kind of unintelligible sound that Harry could not understand.

"If you hurt Harry, I will kill you," Sirius said very softly.

With a start, Uncle Vernon released Harry's shoulder and stumbled away as soon as Sirius released his hand.After watching him for a moment, the wizard turned to Harry."Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," he replied, his eyes fixed on Sirius' face.The rage in his godfather's eyes reminded him of that night in the Shrieking Shack, when all Sirius had wanted to do was kill Wormtail—_Wormtail!_Harry's heart began to race, but suddenly, Sirius' expression changed, and his eyes softened.Gently, he touched Harry's right cheek, and Harry couldn't help but wince when Sirius encountered a day-old bruise there.

"Are you sure?"

Harry nodded.That didn't matter now.Not with Sirius here."I'm sure," he replied."Did you get my letter?"

"Yes.And I got Dumbledore's, which was even more important."Suddenly, Sirius spun, pointing his wand at Aunt Petunia as she finally crept close enough to lift the hallway telephone."_Reducio._"

Abruptly, the phone shrank to the size of a matchbox and fell to the floor with a clank as Aunt Petunia shrieked again."Oh, for heavens sake!" Sirius spat, exasperated."_Quietus!_"

Aunt Petunia fell silent, but her lips were still moving.Fury contorted her already ugly features and she glared at the wizard, but he ignored her.Confused, Dudley asked, "Mummy?"

"What have you done to her?" Uncle Vernon demanded.

"Nothing irreversible," Sirius responded coldly."So don't tempt me to do anything more." His right hand dropped to Harry's shoulder as he rounded on Uncle Vernon, and Harry felt Sirius' grip on his wand loosen ever so slightly as his godfather forced himself to relax."Now, I am taking Harry with me for the rest of the summer.You may or may not see him next year, but if you do, I advise you to act _sensibly_."

Having just stopped Uncle Vernon from striking Harry, there was no doubting what 'sensibly' meant to Sirius.Or to Uncle Vernon, who stuttered.

"You can't take him!" the fat man managed, making Harry sigh.He was sure that Uncle Vernon wasn't worried for his safety; no, his uncle only cared that going with Sirius would make Harry happy, and he couldn't have that.Not to mention the fact that going with Sirius would let Harry act like the 'freak' that he was, and take away any chance they had of pounding the magic out of him."Why, we're responsible for him!We are his family!"

"Some family you turned out to be," Sirius growled in reply."And I am taking Harry with me.First of all, I am his godfather, which means I'm his legal guardian under Muggle or Magical Law.Second, it's for his own safety.You really don't want to be around when a horde of dark wizards show up to collect him, do you?"

"All you wizarding freaks are the same," Uncle Vernon growled, but Harry's eyes were on his Aunt Petunia, who looked as if she had something desperately important to say.Noticing the same thing, Sirius flicked his wand at her impatiently, and looked her in the eye.

"Not all," he said coolly."These are the same type that killed your sister."She stared at him, and Harry felt Sirius tense slightly."Yes, I remember you.You were that awful girl who met Lily at the train station and never could even look James in the eye and see what a wonderful man he was."His voice tightened with pain."And the strength you never saw in him is the same thing you've failed to notice in their son."

Aunt Petunia opened her mouth to reply, but Sirius' wand snapped to point directly at her face.

"Say a word of insult about James or Lily Potter, and I will forget that I probably should not kill you," he snapped, and Harry watched fear fill her eyes.Most of all, though, he knew that Sirius wasn't joking around…or at least he did not think so.

"Sirius?" he whispered.

His father's best friend looked down at him, lowering his wand."Go upstairs," he said softly."Change into your robes and bring your trunk down here.Make sure everything you need is inside it.Leave Hedwig's cage.She's with Remus right now, and we can get another one later." 

"Right."Harry turned and headed up the stairs, taking them two at a time when Sirius added, 

"Quickly, Harry.We haven't much time."

For long moments there was silence, and Sirius finally understood why Harry had been so excited when he'd offered him a home.Never, in his worst nightmares, had he imagined that the Dursleys could be so awful_._So piggish.So _uncaring._But he kept his temper in check.In fact, it had been well under control ever since the fat boy—Dudley?—opened the door.Most of his anger had been manufactured; he was supposed to be an escaped murderer after all, and a little fear certainly couldn't hurt the Dursleys.The only time he'd felt truly willing to kill was when the fat bastard had tried to hit Harry.He was not exactly proud of that fact, but he certainly didn't regret it.A whimsical smile fleeted briefly across his face.Besides, the Dursleys were capable of trying the patience of a saint.He doubted even Albus Dumbledore would have been able to do anything less than Sirius had done.

Both parents were staring at him, and the boy was still trying to hide behind his mother (which, of course, wasn't working very well at all, given how extraordinarily fat the brat was) and whimpering quietly.Finally, Sirius could stand the inactivity no more.Putting his wand away, he moved swiftly to the front window and peered outside.There was nothing, but sunset was approaching, and darkness was when the Death Eaters came out to play.

He was supposedly a day early, but Sirius had learned the hard way not to take chances.Especially not with others' lives.He spun around to look at the motionless Dursleys.

"When is Pettigrew coming for him?" he demanded.

"Who?" Vernon asked.

"Peter," he hissed."Your _friend._"

"Tomorrow…tomorrow morning," Petunia stuttered."Why do you care?"

Sirius had to take a deep breath before he allowed himself to speak, had to remind himself that killing Peter—_Wormtail_—was not his responsibility.Saving Harry was."Because he _was_ once James' friend," he replied, surprised at how even his own voice was."He was once my friend.

"He's the reason why your sister died," Sirius continued after swallowing his venomous feelings once more."He betrayed them to Voldemort, the Dark wizard who killed them.He's the reason why I spent twelve years in prison for murders I didn't commit.And he wants Harry so he can deliver him to his master and save his own pathetic neck."

"You're…not going to kill us?" Petunia stuttered, making it clear that, although the Dursleys hadn't comprehended everything Sirius said, they had at least gotten the message when he'd said he wasn't a murderer.

"No," Sirius replied seriously."I would never deprive Harry of the only family he has left, no matter how horrible you are.But Voldemort will."

"What?"

Sirius smiled without warmth."Oh, yes.Especially when Wormtail finds Harry gone," he spat.He couldn't bring himself to say Peter's name again.His betrayal still hurt too much."So I suggest you leave.Tonight."

"Where?" Vernon asked."Where do we go?How can we expect to get away from you freaks?"

_Now I know why Lily thought you were a gigantic piece of blubber and trash._"Anywhere but here," he replied shortly."They won't chase you.Probably.They'll be more concerned with Harry and me."

Petunia's face tightened angrily, and Sirius took a moment to wonder why stubbornness had to be the only thing she and Lily had in common.She snapped, "And why shouldn't we just tell them where you've gone?"

"Because you won't know," Sirius growled back, hoping Harry would hurry.He couldn't stand much longer in their presence without becoming a real life murderer.He glanced out the window again, distracted.This was going too easily."Besides, they'd kill you anyway."

"But why?" Dudley whined."We don't know anything."

Sirius skewered the boy with a glare."You're Muggles," he responded."They'll kill you for fun."

"That's sick," Vernon spat.

"Yes, it is," Sirius agreed levelly."That's why we fight him."

Finally, Harry came down the stairs, dressed in robes and hauling his trunk."I've got everything."

"Good," Sirius breathed."You have your Firebolt?"

"Right here."Harry held it up in his right hand, and Sirius smiled.His godson reached the bottom of the stairs."How are we going to take this if we're flying out of here?"

"Easy."His smile blossomed into a momentary grin, and with a mumbled word and a flick of his wand, the trunk changed into a small pebble.The _pop_ it let out startled the Dursleys, but Sirius could have cared less.

"Neat," Harry commented, wisely picking up the stone and putting it in a pocket.

"I always was good at Transfiguration."He shrugged, opening the door."Shall we go?"

"Sure.What are you going to fly?"

Sirius smiled sheepishly."I got myself a Firebolt.Not quite as awesome as my old flying motorcycle, but better than nothing.I wonder what Hagrid did with that thing, anyway?"

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**Author's Note: If I asked nicely, would you review?****J Please let me know what you think!And keep reading; there is more to come!We'll be moving a bit into Harry's fifth year, soon…and I promise more Dumbledore, Snape, Lupin, and friends.Really, I do. **


	4. Risks Worth Taking

Death Before Dishonor

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## 

## Chapter Three:Risks Worth Taking

Snape Apparated, heart racing.He never prayed, but at the moment he was sorely tempted._Dumbledore, you had better have succeeded…_ Upon seeing him, Wormtail jumped, which the Death Eater took as a good sign.Scowling, Snape snarled, "Where's the boy?"

"He's…he's not here," Pettigrew squeaked.

"What?" Snape thundered, inwardly singing the praises of Albus Dumbledore._That old man never ceases to astonish me._Now he just had to keep himself alive.

Wormtail winched as Snape stared at him.Although he'd been properly…chastised for his late return to the fold, Severus Snape had quickly regained his old position in the Death Eater hierarchy: third only to Lucius Malfoy and Voldemort himself.His efficiency and coldness had made that possible in an unbelievably short amount of time that he knew many of his fellow Death Eaters despised him for, but no one brewed potions as quickly or flawlessly as Snape, and few could kill with so little care.Once again, he had proved that while the Dark Lord was partial to the heartless, he especially favored those who acted without any emotion at all.

Wormtail, though, pitiful and miserable creature that he was, had just learned that being emotionless still left him with one hell of a temper.

"They…the Dursleys are gone…Severus," Wormtail stuttered.

"Don't call me that," he snapped."Where?"

"I don't know…"

"You don't know?" Snape mocked him.

"He doesn't know what?" Lucius Malfoy had Apparated into the room with a _pop_ and had heard the last sentence.

Snape turned lazily toward his old classmate, letting irritation and a hint of fury color his features."Potter's relatives are gone, Lucius," he replied."And so is the boy."

Wormtail flinched again at the fury on Malfoy's face, but Snape stood his ground without fear.Such was his trademark.They never suspected him, because he showed no fear—not even to Voldemort.Or, at least no more than he had to, anyway.

"You lost Potter?" Lucius demanded.

"They left sometime yesterday," Wormtail whispered."I did not see them go…"

Snape watched Lucius' mouth drop open.It was one of the few times he had ever seen the smooth-talking Slytherin at a loss for words, and he knew that Malfoy's mind was working anxiously at how to deflect the blame from himself, the highest ranking Death Eater assigned to the task.

In the silence, though, other Death Eaters were appearing: Crabbe, Goyle, Nott, Macnair, and Avery.They stared from Malfoy to Snape and to the cowering Wormtail, knowing something was wrong, but afraid to ask.However, as the stillness stretched forward, Wormtail spoke, mistaking Malfoy's silence for hesitation.

"Please…there was nothing I could—"

_"Crucio!"_Snape did not even tell him to shut up.He just lifted his wand and let the curse fly without any of the anger or glee the others would have demonstrated.The act was vintage Snape the Death Eater, but slightly painful for a man who might have regretted it had he allowed himself to feel.

Several of the others shuddered quietly as Wormtail writhed upon the ground, screaming, and left there longer than Malfoy would have made him suffer.Finally, Malfoy cleared his throat.

"Severus… You're going to wake up the neighbors," Lucius said with more amusement than admonishment in his voice.

Snape scowled, and waited a split second longer before releasing Wormtail from the curse."Ask me how much I care."

With two strides, he reached Wormtail's side.Grabbing him by the shoulder, Snape dragged the whimpering Death Eater to his feet.He dragged the other forward, spitting his words out with contempt."Let's go, Wormtail."

"Where…?" the other sobbed.

"You get to tell our Master about your failure," Severus snarled.

"No…"

He pulled Wormtail's face close and breathed the words right in his face."Oh, yes.Your failure, your explanation.You really want to argue with me?"

"No…!"

Abruptly, he turned away from the shivering Death Eater."Shall we, Lucius?"

"Indeed."Malfoy did not look happy, but at least he agreed."The rest of you will accompany us."

There were murmurs, but not of disagreement.The only one amongst them who ever dared disagree with Malfoy was Snape, and he had started this whole thing.Personally, the Hogwarts Potions Master had no pity for any of the lot; they had chosen Voldemort.They could deal with his inevitable temper tantrum.

After all, misery loved company.

Several hours later, Snape found himself alone with Voldemort, a situation he liked not at all.He was shaking slightly, but trying to control it; pain was nothing he had not encountered before, and the present amount was far less than he had experienced the day before, after failing to convince Dumbledore to walk into a trap of the Dark Lord's making.Voldemort had not expected success, of course, but that hadn't made the punishment any lighter.In fact, Severus wondered momentarily if that had only made it worse.

The Dark Lord had dismissed the others: most, as incompetents, and Lucius was off to see what he could discover of Potter's whereabouts.Wormtail, of course, was still on the floor less than ten feet away from the Dark Lord and his servant, but he was finally unconscious.While Snape still felt no pity for him, he knew that the other's present state was a blessing.His own experience of twenty-four hours before was nothing in comparison to what Wormtail had just been through.

"Dumbledore…" Voldemort hissed quietly."How do you suppose he knew, Severus?"

"I am not sure, My Lord," Snape replied carefully."But I believe that he received a letter from Potter…" He jerked his head contemptuously in Wormtail's direction."That fool was not as careful as he should have been."_Thank goodness._

It was also a very good thing that Dumbledore had shown him the letter that Remus Lupin had forwarded to him, the letter where Harry told Black of his suspicions…hopefully, as the Headmaster had said, it would give him enough evidence to deflect suspicion completely onto Wormtail.

"I see…" Snape waited silently for Voldemort to continue, concentrating on controlling his breathing and appearing like nothing more than a loyal Death Eater, devoted to his master's plans.He wasn't especially concerned for his own safety—he knew that he'd be found out eventually, and was equally certain that when that day came, he would die in agony—but he was worried about betrayal.His own betrayal.Having forsaken Voldemort years before for Dumbledore's cause, he could only fear for what information the Dark Lord might torture out of him.And he could only hope to do some good while he was still alive.

"So he is at Hogwarts."

"No, My Lord," Snape replied honestly."He was not there when I left, and I doubt he is now.Dumbledore did not retrieve the boy himself.He is currently meeting with the Minister of Magic, and could not have done so.I do not think Potter is with him, My Lord."

"Where, then?"

Snape shivered as cold red eyes burned over him, and made an intensive study of the toes of his own boots."I do not know, My Lord."

Voldemort hissed, and Snape braced himself for pain that never came."Go back to Hogwarts.See what you can learn from that Muggle-lover when he returns."

"Yes, My Lord."

"Dumbledore still trusts you, Severus?"

"Impeccably, My Lord," Snape replied, letting a sneer creep into his voice."He believes I am a changed man."

Voldemort laughed, and Snape was glad that he could not read minds._I am a changed man._"Good…good…" the Dark Lord smiled."Lucius tells me that you were a tad…overenthusiastic earlier this evening?"

Snape bowed his head."I live to serve, Master, and am disappointed when others do not do the same."

"Very well."Another chuckle."Go."

Snape knelt to kiss the hem of Voldemort's robes and then made his retreat.

"Harry?"Sirius bent over his godson, wishing that it were not still dark outside, but knowing that they had to leave.They had spent the night in a Muggle hotel after he'd transfigured both his and Harry's clothing into something Muggles would wear and transfigured their brooms into inconspicuous suitcases.Fleeing from the law had given Sirius a healthy respect for keeping up appearances—and a rather strong basis of knowledge about the "normal" world.Hell, he could even have used a telephone if he really wanted to, and would have managed not to let even Vernon Dursley realize that he was a wizard.

Running from the law, though, had also taught him that getting an early start could mean the difference between freedom and prison—or, in this case, the difference between life and death.Gently, he shook the boy again."Harry?"

"Mmm?"

"It's time to get up.We have to go."

Harry's eyes suddenly popped open."Sirius?"

"Yep." He smiled slightly.

"I thought I dreamed about you coming…but I guess I didn't, did I?" Harry grinned and sat up."The look on Aunt Petunia's face when you made the phone shrink…"

Sirius grinned."I thought about making your cousin shrink, too, but then I realized that I'd be doing him too much of a favor."

They laughed together, but after a few moments, Harry sobered."Can I ask you a question, Sirius?"

"Sure."

"Would you have really killed them?The Dursleys, I mean?" Harry asked quietly.

He'd known this was coming; fortunately, though, the truth was what Harry wanted, and needed, to hear."No," Sirius replied softly."I couldn't take away the only family you have left, Harry.Even if they are as miserable and disgusting as the Dursleys."

"Oh.I'm glad to hear that."

"That's because you're better than them."Sirius met his godson's gaze, and kept it."I'm capable of killing, Harry, but not without good reason.But I won't let them hurt you, either."

"Thanks," Harry said softly.

But he was rather quiet, and Sirius looked at him with concern, afraid that there was something he wasn't seeing, and very much afraid that there were perhaps several very good reasons to keep the Dursleys out of Harry's life.Permanently.He sat down next to his godson on the hotel room bed."Are you all right?" 

"Yeah."

"What about that?" he asked, gesturing at the still evident bruise on Harry's right cheek.

"It's nothing.Not a big deal."Harry shrugged, and as Sirius studied him, he realized that Harry wasn't lying.Harry really didn't think it was a big deal at all.

"Does he hit you often?" Sirius asked quietly.

"Sometimes," the boy admitted."Usually only when I make him mad.Which is a lot."

A frightening thought occurred to Sirius."You know that's wrong, right?You realize that isn't what a normal family is like, don't you, Harry?"

"Sure," Harry replied quietly."I mean, I guess so.I've never really had a…normal family."

The sadness in the boy's voice made Sirius' heart contract._He's just a child…_ Without conscious thought, Sirius wrapped his right arm around Harry's shoulders.But Harry tensed at the touch, and Sirius looked down at him with concern."I'm not going to hurt you, Harry," he whispered."I would never hurt you."

"I know."Big green eyes met his own, then, after a moment, wavered slightly."I'm just not used to…you know, people hugging me."

_No, I don't know.Not like you do, anyway._Sirius hesitated for a moment before asking, but he had to."Has anyone ever?"

Finally, Harry relaxed, leaning his head into Sirius' shoulder."Once," he mumbled."Mrs. Weasley, after the Triwizard Tournament."

"Oh, Harry…" Sirius trailed off, at a loss for words, so he just wrapped his other arm around his godson and hugged the boy.He heard the sorrow in Harry's voice, and knew that there were inescapable demons in his past—no matter how strong Harry Potter was, he would always be haunted by Voldemort's return and what had happened that day.Worse, Harry had lived the summer alone, separated from his friends and anyone who could or would understand, which had to make coping even harder.Sirius knew that Dumbledore had talked to Harry at length about what happened, and had managed to mostly convince the boy that Cedric Diggory's death wasn't his fault, but he knew Harry would always feel the pain of a death he could not prevent.

And he knew that there were some scars that mere eyes could never see.

For long moments they sat together, silently, wrapped up in each other's arms.Harry didn't cry, and Sirius hadn't expected him to, but he felt the tenseness leave the boy, and felt Harry truly relax for what was probably the first time in months.Sirius never knew how long they held one another before Harry spoke.

"You know," he said softly, "the Dursleys aren't my only family."

"What?" Sirius stared at him.

"I have you."

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**Author's Note: Please review…even if you hate it.I know FFN has been down for a while, now, so I've posted several chapters at the same time.Please let me know what you think.Thanks!ROBIN**


	5. Handle With Care

Death Before Dishonor

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## 

## Chapter Four:Handle With Care

_ _

_Four days_, he thought to himself._Four more days and they'll be on the train, going to Hogwarts where they will _all _be safe._A sigh threatened to escape him, but his irritation turned it into a growl._Four days to keep two kids alive and hope that Sirius can keep Harry out of Voldemort's hands._He forced himself to smile, but he was sure that the expression on his face bore no similarity to that of a happy man.It certainly didn't feel like a real smile, anyway, and he really did not know why he bothered.Probably because he was walking down a Muggle street in broad daylight, going to see people who might be in even more danger because of his presence.

Remus Lupin growled again._Save the world from Voldemort, _he thought peevishly._Sure, Headmaster, no problem!_He snorted, this time in cynical amusement._Who would have thought that one of the greatest wizards of all time would trust a _werewolf?__But a small voice in the back of his head reminded him that Dumbledore _did_ trust him, even when no one else had.And the best part about that was—or worst, depending upon how he was feeling at the given moment—was that Voldemort thought he could use that to his advantage.Subtle contacts from old "acquaintances" had told him that the Dark Lord was trying to recruit him, and Remus growled again and the thought._Sure, like I'll go anywhere _near_ the monster who killed James and Lily, _he thought angrily._He tried to kill Harry not once or twice, but three times—four if you count his youthful self from that damn diary._

Shaking his head, the werewolf pushed such thoughts out of his mind.If he was reading the map right, the Granger residence was only two houses away, and it wouldn't be polite to pop up on their doorstep with such morbid thoughts in mind.Hell, it might not be such a great idea to be there at all—but he was._And maybe I'm just paranoid, but Voldemort's never been squeamish about who he'll use to harm someone._

He reached the correct door and knocked twice.Several moments later, a middle-aged woman who looked like an older version of Hermione Granger opened the door.She had glasses, he noticed, and intelligent eyes that gave him a quick once over before she had even finished opening the door."Yes?"

"Are you Mrs. Granger?" Remus asked politely, smiling in the friendliest way he could manage with all the worries that were bouncing around in his head.

"I am," she answered, looking at him strangely.

"My name is Remus Lupin," he explained."I used to be one of Hermione's professors at school.There are a few things I need to talk to you about.May I come in?"

She studied him once more and hesitated._Smart woman, _he thought._Good._Not like he would have expected anything less from Hermione's mother.After all, her daughter was at the top of her class by a rather insurmountable margin."Trust me, Mrs. Granger, I would not be here if it were not of the utmost importance that I speak with you."

"All right."Cautiously, she stepped aside and led him into the foyer after closing the door."Would you like to speak to me, or my daughter?"

"Actually, I would like to speak to both of you, and your husband as well, if he is home."

Moments later, he was sitting at the kitchen table when Mrs. Granger led her husband in."Hermione will be downstairs in a moment," Mrs. Granger explained."She was just—"

"Professor Lupin?"The startled voice came from behind him, and Remus twisted in his chair."What are you doing here?"

"Hello, Hermione," he said softly."Perhaps you had better sit down before I begin explaining."

Her bright eyes shinning with curiosity, Hermione sat between her parents and Lupin."Are you here from Professor Dumbledore?"

"Yes and no," Remus replied, and watched her parents exchange worried glances.Turning, he faced them."How much has your daughter told you about what is happening in the Magical world?"

Mr. Granger replied after looking at his wife and receiving a nod in return."Some," he said."Hermione has told us that there is a—Dark wizard, do you call them?—that has come back into power after having supposedly died fifteen years ago.She's warned us that we may be in danger because she does not have wizards for parents."

"Well, at least you have the gist of the situation."Remus nodded, and took a deep breath."So I'll try to make my explanations as short as possible.

"What Hermione probably has not mentioned to you is that one of her friends from school is the focus of many of Voldemort's plans.His name is Harry Potter—I believe you have met him a few years ago—and his parents were old friends of mine.Voldemort killed them when Harry was just a baby, but for some reason, he could not kill Harry.One of his main goals is now to hunt Harry down and kill him.

"Several days ago, we received information about how Voldemort planned to kidnap Harry.Sirius Black, Harry's godfather and another wizard, got him away from his relatives before the Death Eaters—they're Voldemort's accomplices—could take him.I don't know where they are right now, but I know they are safe."_Or I'm sure that I'd know if they weren't, anyway_.Hermione's face had tightened as he spoke, but it relaxed visibly as soon as Remus mentioned that Harry was with Sirius and away from Voldemort.

"Will Harry be safe?" she asked when he paused.

"If anyone can keep him away from Voldemort, Sirius can," Remus answered, nodded to her in reassurance."He's had ample experience with Death Eaters…" _Don't think about that, Remus.It'll just make you angry, again._

"Anyway, that brings me to my next point," he continued."As you know, Hermione, Sirius spent the early part of the summer gathering the 'old crowd' for Professor Dumbledore.The 'old crowd' is actually the Order of the Phoenix, a group of witches and wizards who joined together to support Dumbledore the last time Voldemort rose to power.As before, we have realized that the Ministry cannot be trusted to do what has to be done.I've spent the summer making preparations and working towards that end.

"My knowledge of Voldemort's activities has put me in a position to see a great deal of information and make some logical assumptions.First and foremost of which is that he wants Harry.He _needs_ Harry if he's going to prove to the world that he is every bit as powerful as he once was.Therefore, he's going to go to great lengths to get a hold of Harry Potter.

"And that means you are not safe here."

"What?" Mr. and Mrs. Granger gasped together.

"It's because I'm Harry's friend, isn't it?" Hermione asked quietly.

"Yes," Lupin replied heavily."That, and you are an easier target than Ron, because he is surrounded by wizards on a daily basis.Here, you have no protection."He looked at her parents."Now, you must understand that I have no evidence to support my conclusions, and I am acting on my own.I do not dare write Professor Dumbledore in case the owl is intercepted, which is the same reason Sirius and I have not been in touch.But I feel very strongly that if we are to keep Harry safe, we must keep you safe.All of you."

Mr. Granger laid a protective hand on his daughter's shoulder."But certainly this…Voldemort fellow wouldn't go after a child…?"  
"He went after Harry, Dad."

Hermione's father went pale."But…"

"I know this is hard to hear," Remus said gently."I am not a parent myself, but I can only imagine how it feels to know your child is in danger.But Voldemort _will _come.He has no conscience.He will not care how old she is."

The name of Cedric Diggory hung unspoken in the air between Remus and Hermione, but although they exchanged a glance, neither said a word.Hermione's parents just didn't need to hear that.

"What do you want us to do?" Mrs. Granger finally asked.

"What I suggest is that you take a vacation," Remus replied."Stay away from this house and any place you normally go until a few days after Hermione is safely back at Hogwarts.In the meantime, I will take her to Ron Weasley's house.She will be safe there."_Or at least I hope she will._

Hermione nodded helpfully."You've met Mr. and Mrs. Weasley," she said to her parents."And my friend Ron.I'm sure I'll be safe there.They've got a family full of wizards." 

The Grangers exchanged worried looks once more, and shared a moment of silent communication that Remus knew was common between married couples.Finally, Mr. Granger nodded."If you think she will be safe, that's what we'll do."

"Thank you," Remus breathed, unable to articulate how relieved he was.He knew this was hard for them, knew it had to hurt."You won't regret it," he promised.

An hour later, he and Hermione watched from the front porch as her parents drove away.Between them, on the ground, lay Hermione's school trunk, along with a bag of any Muggle items that she would need until they reached the Weasleys' house.They stood quietly for a moment, and then she asked.

"So how are we going to get to Ron's, Professor?"

He smiled slightly."I rented a Muggle car, Hermione.It's just down the street."

"Can you drive?"She eyed him suspiciously.

"Yes," Remus chuckled."I learned in my sixth year at Hogwarts.It's amazing, the things you do when you're friends with Sirius Black and James Potter."

"You _drove_?"

"Oh, we did many stupider things that that, Hermione," Remus replied, leading her down the street and dragging the truck behind him."But yes.Over the summer before that year, Sirius had acquired a fascination with Muggle motor vehicles.We thought he was crazy, at first, but it turned out to be a lot of fun, and the law prohibiting magical tampering with Muggle devices had a lot more loopholes at that point."He grinned as they reached the nondescript rental."Sirius eventually settled on a flying motorcycle, but I always enjoyed cars more."

"Oh."They wrestled her trunk into the back seat."I have a hard time imagining you as a practical joker, Professor Lupin."

"Do you?"He slid into the driver's seat and belted himself in, starting the ignition.

"Well, you're always so _nice_," Hermione explained."You're not like Fred and George at all.I mean, your grades weren't like theirs, were they?"

Remus laughed."No, not at all.James, Sirius, and I always traded on being the smart kids.It never kept us out of trouble, but sometimes it made our pranks harder to track.But after having been in Filch's office when I was a professor, I noticed that our files are much, _much_, larger than the Weasley twins'.He's still got them, too."

Hermione giggled."Why?"

"I have no idea," Remus admitted."But the entire year I was there, Filch kept looking at me like he expected me to transfigure his darn cat into a fish or something."

"Did you?"Her eyes danced.

"_Me_?No." He laughed again."James did, though.He was always the best at Transfiguration.But it wasn't Mrs. Norris.It was the cat before her."

"You mean Mrs. Norris isn't immortal?" Hermione asked with such faked innocence that Remus almost ran them off the road because he was laughing so hard.

"I hope not!"

_"Crucio!"_

Harry tried to cry a warning, but there was no time—all he felt was pain.It felt like every nerve ending in his body was on fire, felt like he was going to be torn limb from limb.Vaguely, he felt his body hit the ground, and although he could not hear it over his own screams, he knew Sirius had landed next to him.Through the pain, he knew it was over.He felt his body convulsing, felt waves of pain tearing through every part of him—

_"Stupefy!"_

It stopped.Harry blinked and stared blindly at the gray sky.The pain had stopped.Why had it stopped?Hands shook him.

"Harry?Harry?"It was Sirius, leaning over him and holding his shoulders gently.The older man looked every bit as pale and ragged as Harry felt, and his features were tight with concern.But it was _Sirius_, and the three Death Eaters who had cornered them were sprawled on the ground, unconscious."Harry, can you stand?We've got to get out of here before they wake up."

Harry nodded numbly, and allowed Sirius to help him to his feet.His head spun, and he tried to remember what had happened, but everything was so blurry… He only remembered a strong voice shouting out _Stupefy_ and then the pain stopped.Finally, he mumbled, "Who…?"

"I stunned them, Harry," Sirius said softly.Distantly, Harry felt an arm wrap around his shoulders."Come on, we've go to go."

The pain started to fade a little when he sucked in a deep breath.However, he guessed that he must have hit his head on the way down, because nothing Sirius was saying made sense."How?" he asked.His head clearing, Harry blinked and looked up at his godfather."I thought you couldn't use magic when under the Cruciatuscurse."

"Most people don't try."Harry stumbled suddenly, and Sirius caught him.His legs felt like jello.Quickly, they moved past the unconscious Death Eaters and out of the empty alleyway they had been chased into."I'm sorry I can't do anything for you right now, Harry," Sirius added softly.

"I understand."Besides, simply being with Sirius helped him.It was wonderful to know that someone cared, that he wasn't alone—that he had _family_.Real family."Where do we go now?"

"The Leaky Cauldron, then Diagon Alley," Sirius responded immediately."From there, well, I'll figure out something.Hiding in Muggle London isn't going to work anymore."

"No kidding," Harry breathed.Then again, it had bought them five days of relative peace and quiet—five wonderful days that he'd been able to spend with his godfather, who still managed to have fun despite the fact that they were running away from the most powerful Dark wizard the world had ever known.They never stayed in the same hotel room twice, and never went into the same store or restaurant more than once, but Sirius had still ensured that they enjoyed nearly every moment of their time.It had almost been like vacation.

Twenty minutes later, they had reached the Leaky Cauldron.Harry was steadier on his feet now, and Sirius was in his dog form once more; although Harry knew Sirius was innocent, most of the wizarding world still saw him as Voldemort's right hand man, and assumed that he was behind the attacks.In fact, as they made their way into Diagon Alley, Harry noticed an elderly witch reading the _Daily Prophet_.He couldn't miss the headline:

##### BLACK MARK IN THE SKY: ANOTHER ATTACK BY SIRIUS BLACK__

To his right, Sirius growled softly, but wagged his tail when Harry put a cautious hand on his neck.Their eyes met, for a moment, and Harry nodded, making his way up the street.Every now and then, he heard someone mutter his name, but he kept on walking, struggling to look as if he had a purpose and knew exactly where he was going.Sirius' plan called for Harry to be noticed in Diagon Alley before they left, so he walked in and out of stores for a while, purchasing his books as he went, and trying to ignore the strange looks people gave him.Finally finished with his shopping, Harry returned to the Leaky Cauldron and rented a room for the night.By then, the sun was setting.

The walk upstairs was exhausting, and when he finally unlocked the door, it was all Harry could do to avoid collapsing on the bed.It had been so hard to act normally all day long; he was rapidly learning that when the pain from the Cruciatuscurse faded, exhaustion was left in its wake.There was a pop as Sirius transformed back into a man.

"Go ahead and lay down, Harry," he said, casting a sealing spell on the door."I know you're tired."

Harry didn't have to be told twice, but he wasn't ready to sleep yet.He waited until Sirius had finished casting as silencing spell on the room, as well, and wondered why his godfather wasn't constructing any wards."Sirius?"

"Yes?" the older man turned to face him but did not put his wand away.His face was lined with fatigue, too, but he did not look ready to sleep, either.

"Are we going to be safe, here?"

"No," Sirius sighed."And that's why we're not going to be staying here for the night.Do you have anything that belongs to Ron, Harry?"

Puzzled, Harry had to stop and think about that."I don't think so," he replied."Why?"

"There are still three and a half days until you need to be on the Hogwarts Express," Sirius said quietly."I can't take you to Hogwarts early because there won't be enough protection without Dumbledore there, and he'll be at the Ministry right up until the start of school.So, the only safe place I can think of is the Weasleys'."

"But why do you need something of Ron's?" Harry asked.

"I'm going to create a Portkey."

Harry gaped."You know how to do that?Isn't that really specialized magic?"

"Actually, you can blame Remus for that," Sirius smiled sheepishly."While James and I were researching how to become Animagi, we convinced Remus to figure out how to make Portkeys.We said it was for one of our pranks, but it was really to keep him from knowing what we were doing.We didn't want him to stop us."For a moment, his blue eyes darkened with sadness."Anyway, he taught me and James after he figured it out."

"Wow."Harry's brow furrowed in thought."Is there anything else you can use?"

"Well, since I've never been to the Weasleys', I need something with a link to their home," Sirius replied."Do you happen to have a letter from Ron?That would probably work."

Harry sat up. "Yeah.He started fishing around in his pockets."But it's in my trunk, so you'll have to restore that first.Here it is!"

Putting the pebble on the floor—he really didn't think it was a good idea to have it in his hand when Sirius transformed the little rock back into a heavy trunk—Harry watched his godfather expertly transform the pebble back into his trunk.Without having to be told, Harry flipped open the lid and started searching for Ron's latest letter.Finally, he found it, right underneath his copy of _Quidditch Through the Ages_.He held the letter out to Sirius."Here."

"Thanks."Sirius smiled slightly."You might as well get some sleep, Harry.This will take me at least an hour, and you really look like you could use some rest."

He would have rathered watch Sirius, but his eyelids were getting awfully heavy."Okay." 

A few minutes later, Harry was so deeply asleep that he never noticed when his godfather removed his glasses and tucked him into bed.

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**Author's Note:Please review…I know I'm begging shamelessly, but I really want to know if I do well with this fandom or not.Am I in character?Or am I screwed up?**


	6. Progression Toward Victory

Death Before Dishonor

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## Chapter Five:Progression Toward Victory

Remus Lupin sat at the kitchen table, sipping a cup of tea and not breaking his gaze away from Arthur Weasley, who was, if not uncomfortable in his presence, at least a little wary.Trusting came hard, now, for Arthur, especially as the days flew by and Cornelius Fudge sank deeper into lies and denial—which, of course, had little to do with the composed former professor sitting in his house.However, Lupin's presence did feed his finely honed sense of paranoia, and Arthur could not help but worry.He had never met Lupin before and had never heard him mentioned as a member of the Order of the Phoenix—but unfortunately that meant very little.As one of Dumbledore's spies within the Ministry of Magic, Arthur Weasley actually knew very little about the Order, but he did realize that You-Know-Who had to have his spies within it.

_He's got Snape_, a nasty little voice reminded him._Or at least he thinks he does.How ironic.Dumbledore thinks Snape is his spy against You-Know-Who, and You-Know-Who thinks Snape is his spy against Dumbledore.I just hope that Dumbledore is right, and Snape really _is _working for us._Lupin's words startled him out of his reverie.

"I thank you for taking Hermione," the former professor said softly."And for letting me stay the night."

"It's no problem," Arthur replied."Hermione and Ron are best friends, and I can see why she'd be in danger.I only wish I had thought about it myself.How did you think of it, Professor?"

"Please, just call me Remus.I'm not a professor at Hogwarts anymore."Lupin shrugged."But it all started with a letter from Dumbledore about Harry."

Arthur felt his jaw drop open."He sent that to you?"

Lupin hesitated."Uh, no," he responded slowly."But the individual he sent it to was a houseguest of mine at the time."

Watching the other's face close off, Arthur realized he would get no more out of him.In the long run, he was probably better off not knowing, but he was unbearably curious about who Dumbledore had sent to rescue Harry.Finally, he asked, "Do you think Harry is safe?"

"Yes," Lupin replied, his face still impassive.Although a practiced politician, Arthur could read nothing from the werewolf—funny, how that didn't seem important when they were all fighting You-Know-Who—and he hoped that wasn't a bad sign.It was hard, though, to form a definite opinion about a man he'd never known before—although were both Gryffindors, Lupin had not been at Hogwarts while Arthur attended the school, and all he had to go off of was his children's' high opinions of the man.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure we'd know if he wasn't," Lupin said quietly, and Arthur's heart did a sudden back flip into his throat.Suddenly, something pained flashed in Lupin's eyes."Look, I realize we don't know each other," he continued, "and that makes it hard for you to trust me, but we are on the same side.James and Lily Potter were some of the best friends I've ever had.Trust me when I say that Harry's safety is my primary concern.That's why I brought Hermione here."

A new voice from the kitchen doorway startled them both."He does have a point, Dad," Charlie Weasley interjected."If he was working for You-Know-Who, he would never have brought us Hermione."

"True," Arthur admitted, then turned back to Lupin."I apologize if I seem untrusting.Just, these days it's hard to know…"

Lupin smiled slightly and waved off his apology."I understand."

Helping himself to a cup of tea, Charlie sat down at the table with them."Well," he said, "they're finally all asleep—Hermione is with Ginny, again, and I managed to get Fred and George to stop tormenting Ron and go to bed.It's a good thing that none of them are allowed to use magic over the holidays, because Fred made Hermione so mad that I could _see _her deciding what curses and hexes to throw at him.Fortunately, though, she's got the most sense out of the lot of them, and no harm was done."

Both Arthur and Lupin chuckled."I always wondered what it was like to deal with those twins at home," he commented."They were highly amusing to teach."

"Amusing?" Charlie's draw dropped open."You're certainly the first professor to ever say that!Where were you when I was at Hogwarts?"

"Charlie!" Arthur scolded his son, but Lupin chuckled again.

"Don't worry about it," he said with a smile."Did they ever mention the 'Marauder's Map' to you, Charlie?"

Arthur watched his son's eyes widen, and then Charlie's expression grew quizzical."Yes…"

"Well, you're looking at one of the original Marauders," Lupin responded with a twinkle in his eyes.Charlie's mouth dropped open again.

"You're kidding!"

"Nope."

Now Arthur was really confused."Ah, excuse me, but what exactly is the Marauder's Map?" he asked.

"Well, you see, Dad, it's a really neat magical map that Fred and George stole—err, _borrowed_—from Filch's office—"

Suddenly, a knock on the door interrupted Charlie's explanation.Standing up, Arthur wondered, "Who could that be at this time of night?"

"I'll get it," Charlie said immediately, rising.

"We'll both go," Arthur corrected him, shaking his head ever so slightly."You can't be too careful these days."

"You-Know-Who isn't exactly known for knocking, Dad."

"You can _never_ be too careful."Arthur shot a sharp look at his son, who finally nodded."Especially with your mother out of town."

Together, father and son made their way to the front door, and the more Arthur thought about it, the less he could imagine why anyone would be knocking on his door at midnight.Usually, he would not even be awake at such an hour, but the kids' excitement over Hermione and Lupin's arrival, it had been difficult to quiet the house down.Molly, of course, would have had them all under perfect control within thirty seconds, but Arthur had always been a tad more indulgent than his wife.Besides, he had been interested in meeting the infamous Professor Lupin, the werewolf that Albus Dumbledore had trusted enough to let him teach at Hogwarts.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that Charlie had taken his wand out, and decided to do the same.One could never be too careful…and he had a house full of children to protect, one of whom was not even his own.If there was one thing Arthur Weasley had learned by working at the Ministry, it was that appearances could often be very deceiving, and preparations were everything.He hadn't thought that his family would be a target yet, but he could be wrong.Cautiously, he opened the door.

And came face to face with Sirius Black.

Instinctively, his wand came up, and he heard Charlie gasp behind him in surprise._Voldemort's right-hand man is standing on my doorstep!_Mind racing, Arthur quickly ran through a mental catalogue of spells that could disable one of the most powerful Dark wizards alive—he'd never been trained for this—sudden movement caught his eye, and he noticed Black's wand coming up—

_"Impedimenta!"_Charlie's voice came from behind him without hesitation, but even as the words left his son's mouth, Arthur heard Black's answering spell.

_"Finite Incantatem!"_

Arthur didn't have the time to gasp the significance of Black using a purely defensive spell, because the small figure to Black's left suddenly leapt forward.

"Mr. Weasley—Charlie—wait!" Harry cried, but Arthur couldn't take chances.They had to disable Black—

_"Expelliarmus!" _a third voice cried, and Arthur's wand was ripped out of his hand.It flew over his right shoulder to someone behind him.Dimly, he noticed that Charlie's had done the same._But Black still has his wand_, his mind reported feverishly, and Arthur spun to face the new attacker.It was Lupin.

"I was wondering when you'd get here, Sirius," Lupin said levelly.

"Remus."

But Arthur wasn't listening to Black's courteous response.He was staring at Lupin, feeling cold inside.The former Hogwarts professor met his gaze evenly.

"I realize you're feeling betrayed at the moment, Arthur, but I think you will understand once I explain," Lupin said."First, though—Sirius, Harry, why don't you come inside and close the door?"

As he backed out of the way, Arthur noticed out of the corner of his eye that Black nodded for Harry to precede him, and the boy did so without argument.Quickly, though, he noticed that Harry was abnormally pale and looked a little shaky on his feet.Worry started boiling inside him, and he turned back to face Lupin furiously.

"That's Sirius Black!" a voice suddenly called, and Arthur's head snapped around in time to see his children, plus Hermione, pouring into the room, wands in hand, and led by Fred and George.

"George, no!" Ron made a grab for his older brother's arm, even as Hermione reached out for Ginny.Beside him, Arthur felt Charlie tense for action, and knew that they had a split second in which to act—

_"Expelliarmus!"_This time it was Black, reacting with inhuman speed and catching Fred, George, and Ginny's wands in his left hand.By then, Ron had a solid grasp on George, and Hermione had control over Ginny, but Fred still looked willing to try something, even without a wand.

"Wait!" Harry cried again."All of you!This isn't what it looks like!"The urgency in his voice made Fred stop.Everyone stared at Harry, but Arthur thought he saw Black smile slightly.

"Do you know who this is, Harry?" he asked.

"Yes, I know who he is," Harry replied impatiently. "Can you at least listen before you all try to kill him?" 

Lupin spoke once more, his voice still very calm."I will give you your wands back, but I think you ought to listen to what I have to say."

Stepping forward, the brown-haired wizard returned both Arthur and Charlie's wands.Arthur stared at him suspiciously, but all Lupin did was nod and give Black a significant look.With a nod, Black tossed the children's wands back."Here."

Looking at Charlie, Arthur nodded in the direction of Ginny, Hermione, and the boys.Wordlessly, they both backed up a little further, coming in between the children and Black.Arthur hated to move away from Harry, but unfortunately, Potter seemed convinced he had to stand near Black, and without a united front, there was no chance of standing against Black and Lupin.

However, Lupin turned merely to the boy at Black's side."Are you all right, Harry?"

"Yeah," Harry replied."It's just been a rough day."

Lupin's eyes focused on Black, who scowled."First Death Eaters, and now the Weasley family," the wizard responded to the unspoken question."I'd say it's been a rough day."

"You look like hell, Sirius," Lupin remarked._They're distracted, _Arthur realized, watching.Taking a deep breath, he began to raise his wand.

"Nice to see you, too, Remus," Black retorted, but then his head snapped around, his eyes tracking like a well-trained Auror's—_now, why did I make that comparison?_—and focusing unsettlingly on Arthur."Don't."

Black did not raise his wand again, but something told Arthur that he'd lose that battle—or any other—against the man.

"Dad, just give them a chance to explain," Ron said suddenly, and Arthur twisted around to look at his youngest son."Harry's right.This _isn't_ what it looks like."

There was so much earnest honesty on his son's face that Arthur had a hard time doubting him…but a dark corner of his mind wondered _why_ Ron would say such things.Was he confounded? Confused?Finally, though, Arthur turned back to face Lupin, knowing he had no choice but to listen as the former professor spoke.

"Let me start out, Arthur, Charlie, by saying that Dumbledore trusts Sirius," Lupin said quietly."He was the one who Dumbledore sent to get Harry."

"What?" Arthur gaped, staring at Black.True, the man did not look like he had after escaping Azkaban.Even in the dim light coming from the kitchen, he was no longer gaunt, and had filled out a great deal; his hair was now cut neatly to just above his shoulders, and was much cleaner and fuller than before, but he was every bit as pale.And his eyes were every bit as unreadable.

"But he's…" Charlie started, only to trail off and gulp as Black stepped forward.

"We'll be here all night if I don't explain this, Remus," he said to Lupin, then to nearly everyone's surprise, slid his wand back within the left side of his robe.Then he turned to face Arthur and his family.

"Let me make this very simple," Black said levelly."I was never James and Lily's secret keeper.At the last minute, I switched with Peter Pettigrew"—his voice grew dark for a moment—"who betrayed them to Voldemort.Knowing this, I tracked him down, intending to kill him, but Peter faked his own death and pinned the blame for everything on me.Dumbledore knows this.I have been working with him for the last year and a half, trying to keep Harry safe."

Arthur stared.The story was almost too incredible to be true, yet there was something about the forthright way that Black spoke that made his words seem true.To his right, Charlie shifted slightly, but the children were surprisingly silent.After a moment, Black continued.

"Remus knows this because he was there when I finally tracked Peter down two years ago.Harry, Ron, and Hermione know because they, with Dumbledore's help, saved my life when Fudge wanted the dementors to give me the kiss."His voice was calm, even cool, but Arthur wasn't blind to the emotions rolling around in his eyes.

"But the attacks…" Charlie said quietly.

"Voldemort," Black replied, and Arthur winched as the man said the name again.He wished certain people would stop doing that."I have never been, and never will be, a Death Eater."

"He's telling the truth," Harry said quietly, stepping up beside Black."I know Sirius would never have betrayed my parents.And if he was a Death Eater, he would have turned me over to them today, instead of saving my life."

"What happened, Harry?" Ron asked, beating his father by moments.

Lupin's hand suddenly went up."Wait."He studied Harry for a moment, and then his eyes traveled quickly to Black and back again."Harry needs rest.He can answer your questions in the morning.For now, it is enough that he's safe."

Finally, something Arthur could agree with them on.Immediately, Charlie took charge."Right.Ron, take Harry upstairs, find him some clothes, and get him to bed.The rest of you can talk to him in the morning.Go to bed."

"Okay," Ron said."You coming, Harry?"

"Yeah—oh, wait."Harry grinned sheepishly and started fishing in his pockets."I've got plenty of clothes…" As he pulled a small pebble out of his pocket, Arthur began to wonder if Harry had gone mad.The boy looked up at Black expectantly.

With a _pop_, the pebble turned into Harry's trunk, and Arthur transferred his gaze to Black in time to watch the other casually return his wand to the pocket inside his robes.Then, with a flurry of good nights—Arthur noticed that Harry actually _hugged_ Sirius Black, who mussed his hair with obvious affection—the kids flew up the stairs, George and Fred hauling Harry's trunk between them.He knew they'd never go to bed, but at least Harry would be lying down for all the discussions they had, and that, Arthur supposed, was better than nothing.

But it still left Sirius Black standing in his living room.

There was a long moment of silence, and Arthur could not help but notice as Lupin and Black exchanged yet another knowing look.Uneasily, he coughed into one hand, not knowing what to do, and praying that Black was telling the truth—but unable to believe it.Both looked at him, but it was Black who spoke.

"You don't trust me."It was not a question.

"Should I?" Arthur countered.He was surprised to see that it was Lupin who bristled at his response.

"You son does," Black replied evenly.

"Ron is a trusting boy."Slightly angered that Black would bring his youngest son into this discussion, Arthur couldn't keep his voice nearly as calm as Black's seemed to be.

"He is.But we got off to a rocky start.Having your leg broken by someone and then listening to them insist that your pet rat has to die isn't a good foundation for trust, usually," Black commented.

Arthur stared at the younger man, puzzled, but before he could ask, Charlie interjected."Shouldn't we take this into the kitchen, Dad?" he asked."So we don't keep the kids up?"

Grudgingly, Arthur had to admit that his son was right.Warily, they moved into the kitchen—he hardly liked the idea of turning his back on a convicted murderer, no matter what the man said about his innocence.He and Charlie crossed to one side of the table, leaving Lupin and Black on the other.Turning back to face them, Arthur put his own wand away with a certain amount of reluctance; however, he knew that was necessary, and a simple look drove Charlie to do the same.Lupin, he noticed, had done so on the way out of the living room.

"I think you owe us a more complete explanation," Arthur said.

Again, Lupin and Black exchanged a look, and after a moment, Lupin nodded. "I've told this story once," he said with a slight smile."Now it's your turn."

"You know what Remus is, right?" Black asked without preamble.

"We know he is a werewolf, if that's what you mean," Charlie responded suspiciously."But I don't see what that has to do with your situation."

Black didn't rise to the bait offered."It started in our fifth year at Hogwarts.Three of us—James Potter, Peter Pettigrew, and I—had known for some time what Remus was, and had been searching for some way to help our friend.Finally, knowing that Remus was only a danger to _humans_, we became Animagi."

"What?" Arthur stared at him."That's impossible for fifth year students.It takes years of study and in incredible amount of experience."Not to mention the fact that it was highly illegal, too.

"All three of us," Black responded."I was a dog, and James was a stag.Peter was, appropriately"—his voice grew hard—"a rat.His ability to transform himself is what saved his life.After cutting off his finger, he simply transformed into his Animagus form and fled, having ensured that everyone watching thought I was guilty.Considering the irony of the situation, I laughed.I was certain that a trial would prove me innocent, but I was never given one.Instead, I spent the next twelve years in Azkaban."

A shiver ran down Arthur's spine.There was no way, absolutely no way, that Black had been sent to Azkaban without a trial.If he was truly innocent…_ Look what men like Fudge have done to cover up the Dark Lord's return_, he suddenly reminded himself._Is it so hard to believe that the Ministry wanted someone to label as You-Know-Who's right-hand man, just so people would be reassured that it was finally over?Could they have cared about justice that little?_But Black was continuing, his voice still hard and a little mechanical.

"I escaped, not to kill Harry, like nearly everyone assumed, but to kill Peter.You see, I saw a picture in the _Daily Prophet_ of your family in Egypt.And I saw Ron's pet rat.It was Peter."

"_Scabbers_?" Charlie gasped."Ron said he died two years ago."

Black scowled."Unfortunately, no.He got away due to…the unfortunate circumstances that followed my first encounter with Harry, Ron, and Hermione.Remus here helped me convince them of the truth, but when Snape and about a hundred dementors interfered, things went to hell.Peter is back with Voldemort."

_I wish he'd stop saying that name!_The look on Charlie's face told Arthur that his son agreed with him, but Lupin seemed unbothered.But all the pieces were beginning to fall into place, and taking a deep breath, Arthur spoke."Despite myself, I believe you.I just a question."After Black nodded, Arthur continued."Why haven't we heard of Pettigrew working for You-Know-Who by now?"

"You ever hear of Wormtail?" Lupin snarled, and the ferocity in his voice almost made Arthur jump.Equally surprised, Black looked at his friend, who met his eyes frankly."I was as much in favor of killing him as you were, Sirius," he said coldly; then he took a deep breath."Although, in the end, do I believe Harry was right…James wouldn't have wanted us to become killers.But that doesn't change the fact that Wormtail has to die."

The cold finality in Lupin's voice told Arthur Weasley that he really did not want to gain the former professor as an enemy; however, as the other man suddenly turned to Black, he realized that Lupin made an extraordinary friend."Are you all right, Sirius?"

Black had been staring off into space, but the sound of his friend's voice seemed to bring him back.He blinked."Just tired."

"Don't even start with me, Padfoot."Abruptly, Lupin stepped forward and placed a hand on his friend's shoulder."You and Harry are pale; he's shaky on his feet.I smell pain from both of you."_Pain?_Alarms started going off in Arthur's head, but Lupin continued gently."What happened earlier, Sirius?You said something about Death Eaters."

"Death Eaters?" Charlie repeated, and Arthur knew that he, too, was remembering Black's grumbled comment about a 'rough day' in the hallway._Why didn't I catch that?_ he wondered, but knew the answer._I was too caught up in having an escaped prisoner in my house.Molly would slap me for being so narrow minded._

Leaning back on the counter, Black nodded."Harry and I were in Muggle London when we ran into three Death Eaters.We nearly lost them, but we ended up cornered in an alleyway instead.Since Harry can't Apparate, there wasn't any way out.All three of them threw the Cruciatus curse at us.I'm pretty sure all three of them were aiming at me, but Harry caught one for a few seconds before I could stun them."

There was silence for a long moment; Arthur had not missed the fact that _both _Harry and Black had been struck by the Cruciatus curse, yet still Black had managed to stun the Death Eaters long enough for them to escape, but no matter how unique that was, he didn't think this was the time to ask—especially with the appraising look that Lupin was suddenly shooting in his direction.But the former professor spoke first to his friend.

"You need rest, Sirius," he said softly."As much as Harry does, or more, I expect, if you've been staying up nights watching him."

"Guilty as charged," Black admitted with a shrug."I'm fine, Remus, really."

Lupin only rolled his eyes in response to that before turning to face Arthur once more. His hand never left Black's shoulder as he spoke."I'm going to ask you to trust us simply on the strength of our words," Lupin said quietly."I know this is not easy, but you need us here to help you protect Harry, Hermione, and your family.Sirius brought Harry here because this has always been a safe haven for him, but right now, it may not be safe enough."

"What do you mean?" Charlie asked.

"I mean that if Voldemort comes here, he will come in force, and you will need all the help you can get." Lupin's expression softened slightly."You can owl Dumbledore in the morning if you want, but for now, you've simply got to trust us."

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**Author's Note:I'm so sorry about the Charlie/Charlie confusion earlier.I've fixed it now; I changed my mind halfway through writing the scene, and I must have missed some of them.Thanks very much to everyone who pointed that out!Anyway, stay tuned for what happens when the director calls, "Death Eaters, enter stage right."Please review!**


	7. It Begins

Death Before Dishonor

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## 

## Chapter Six:It Begins

The vulture landed on the windowsill without warning and cawed irritably.This made the group of wizards and witches sprawled around the Weasleys' living room look up in surprise, and then exchange curious glances.

"Whose is that?" Charlie asked.

A series of blank looks answered his question, until Mr. Weasley commented, "I can't even think of any witch or wizard who uses a _vulture_ for the post.They're considered the worst kind of luck, at least as far as birds go."

"Well, it does have a letter," Ron pointed out.No one, however, moved."Fine, I'll get it."

The youngest Weasley boy rose and, after nearly getting his hand pecked off by the unhappy bird, wrestled the small piece of paper away from it.The parchment was folded messily, and wasn't even sealed."What in the world—hey, get back here!"

Without warning, the vulture had flown out the window, and despite Ron's angry yell, it didn't return.Soon, though, Ron was absorbed in the letter.Harry waited impatiently for him to look up, or for him to say anything, but as long seconds ticked by, Ron's expression only became more confused.He flipped the paper over to look at the back, and then turned it over again, staring at the letter in puzzlement.Finally, Harry could take no more.

"What is it?" 

"It's a bloody letter without a signature," Ron spat. "Heck, it's not even a letter!It's only got one sentence."

Something cold settled in Harry's stomach, and he could hardly get the question out."What's it say, Ron?"

"It just says 'We are coming'," Ron replied."Nothing else."Then he swung to face his brothers."This was you, wasn't it?Is this your idea of a joke, isn't it?"

But George and Fred only stared at him, and Harry realized that the horror on their faces matched what he was feeling inside._This can't be happening…_ They were almost safe.The train left tomorrow, and tomorrow he'd be at Hogwarts… He heard several dismayed whispers from his companions as others thought the same thing that had occurred to him.

"Wait one moment," Mr. Weasley's firm voice interrupted Harry's bout of fear."You-Know-Who doesn't warn his victims.He just arrives.This has to be something else."

"Ron, give me that letter," Lupin said suddenly, his voice tense.

"What?"

"It says '_we'!_"No one could understand the sudden urgency in his voice, but the former professor was on his feet already, taking the letter out of Ron's hands.After one look at it, his face went white, but he immediately passed the paper to Sirius.He whispered, "Tell me I'm wrong, Sirius."

Harry's godfather's face did not go white; rather, it hardened.His voice was cool."No, Remus.You're right."

"Right about what?" Harry demanded, feeling very confused and frightened.

"It's Snape's handwriting," Lupin said softly.

"Professor Snape?" George asked."That's good, right?"

"No, George," Lupin replied."That's very bad."

"But why?" Ginny demanded."And why would Professor Snape send a letter that says 'We are coming'?"

Coldness, though, was filling Harry's insides, and he remembered the Dark Mark on Snape's left arm, remembered Professor Dumbledore's words when he had asked if Snape was ready._Snape is working for Voldemort_.Fear seized up Harry's insides._Death Eaters!_

"Shit!" Heads turned as Sirius let loose the startled curse, and they all watched anxiously as he reached inside his robe for his wand.When he pulled it out, the wand was bucking in his hand.Sirius shot to his feet."They've breached the first barrier."

During the two previous days, Sirius and Lupin had painstakingly erected wards around the Weasley home.At the time, Harry had wondered if should have even bothered, but since Sirius and Professor Lupin seemed so serious about it, he hadn't asked.Now he was glad he hadn't.Sirius had said that they had constructed three lines of wards, but that both could and would be breached—all they really existed for was to buy them time to escape.Ron's father had agreed to their construction, but judging from the look Harry saw on his face, he hadn't thought Voldemort would dare attack the Burrow, either.

And then searing pain erupted from Harry's scar.He cried out without meaning to, clamping a hand to his forehead to try to stop the pain.The burning sensation faded after a moment, but this time, it did not die.Instead, his scar seemed to pulse in a consistent way it had never done before.

"Harry?" It was Sirius, holding him gently and looking at him with concern.Harry blinked, opening eyes that he hadn't even realized he had shut, and nodded in response to the unspoken question that hung between them.

"Voldemort," he whispered.

Mr. Weasley was on his feet."Quickly, Charlie, get the Floo Powder," he said."The rest of you, get your trunks."

The room split into organized chaos.Supposedly, the first ward was simply a warning barrier.If things went as planned, they now had three minutes before the Death Eaters could approach the house because of the Anti-Apparition fields Sirius and Lupin had also put in place.They had planned it so that everyone would have plenty of time to escape, but three minutes suddenly seemed like a very short amount of time.

Sirius helped Harry to his feet, glancing at Professor Lupin, who Harry noticed was at the window."How many?"

"At least fifteen."

Harry saw his godfather nod, then watched with amazement as flawlessly took charge of the situation.His voice was level "Arthur, you go first.Ginny, you follow him."

"Sirius, I think that it might be best if I—" Mr. Weasley began to object, but Sirius overrode him easily.

"You're no good if it comes to fighting off Death Eaters, Arthur," he said bluntly."You haven't been trained for this, and an adult has to show up first.That means you.Go!"

Mr. Weasley looked like he was might have argued, but instead he turned to the fireplace and grabbed Ginny's school trunk from the pile of them that had been laid next to it in preparation for this eventuality.Charlie took a pinch of Floo-Powder and tossed it into the fire for him, and moments later, with a shout of "_Diagon Alley!_" Mr. Weasley was gone.

"Go, Ginny," Charlie said, and she, too, vanished.

Without being told, Fred stepped forward, grabbed his trunk, and was gone.George followed him without protest, and Harry turned to Hermione."You next, Hermione," he said.

"Harry, don't you think that you—" she started, but he cut her off with as shove forward.

"Just go."

Sirius was by the window, now, standing with Lupin, who had a very strange look on his face.Hermione disappeared.

"Who's going last?" Charlie asked as she disappeared with her trunk. 

"I will," Sirius replied.

"Sirius—" both Lupin and Harry objected at the same time, but Harry's godfather only stared at Lupin.

"Get him out of here." A jerk of Sirius' head made Harry well aware of the fact that his godfather meant him.

"I'm not going anywhere without you!" Harry said stubbornly, knowing it was stupid, and that Voldemort wanted _him_ the most, but he wasn't going to lose Sirius.Not now.Not again!

"Harry, you daft—" Ron started to cry, but Charlie cut him off with as shove.

"Go, Ron.We'll get Harry."With one cross look, Harry's friend was gone.

Sirius' wand twitched again.He spoke with inhuman calm."Second barrier."

"Time to go, Harry," Charlie said, then, grabbing Harry's shoulder.

"No!Not if he's going to try and do something dumb!" Harry cried angrily. _I'm not losing the only family I have!_Desperately, he jerked away from Charlie's hands, and Lupin's sudden motion made them all go still before he could say anything more.

"I smell blood."  
"Blood?" Charlie echoed, but Lupin was looking out the window.

"There's a Death Eater down."

"Down?" Harry looked at Sirius."But I thought your wards wouldn't kill."

"They don't." His godfather looked out the window again.They exchanged a glance."You think?"

"Yes," Lupin agreed.

"Dumb git is going to get himself killed," Sirius snarled suddenly.

"Who's going to get killed?" Charlie asked.

"Snape."Lupin and Sirius answered the question together, but Sirius turned away from the window."Go, Charlie."Ron's brother opened his mouth to object."Just go."Grabbing Harry's trunk, Charlie was gone.

Sirius looked at Lupin."Take him.I'll go."

Their eyes locked."I'm not leaving you here, Sirius."

"What are you talking about?" Harry demanded."Sirius, let's just go!"

His godfather looked at him for a moment, and it occurred to Harry that his expression was rather sad.Then, Sirius shook his head, and suddenly there was a dog standing in his place.Harry's eyes widened, and he saw Lupin leap forward, trying to grab the dog before it could move, but it was too late.With two giant leaps, Padfoot crossed to the side window and jumped out.

"No!" Harry howled, and without thinking, tried to follow.He was not going to lose Sirius!Not now!_"Sirius!"_

Strong arms grabbed him from behind, wrenching him away from the window.To his left, out the front window, Harry saw a horde of Death Eaters approaching, but still he struggled.He had to get to Sirius.He wasn't going to lose him!Distantly, he heard shouting in his ear.It was Lupin, telling him he couldn't, telling him that he had to go, but Harry didn't care.He was shouting his godfather's name over and over again, and only realized too late that that Lupin was carrying him towards the fireplace.

_"No!"_

_"Diagon Alley!"_

The world was spinning… They came rolling out of the fireplace together, with Harry still locked in Remus Lupin's arms.Fury lashed through him, though, at the thought of what happened, and as soon as he was able, Harry jerked away from Professor Lupin and scrambled to his feet.He stared at his father's old friend, ignoring the confused looks on his companions' faces.

"How could you?" he cried."How could you leave him?"

Lupin rose slowly and looked him at him with an expression that melted Harry's fury immediately.Swallowing, Harry tried to pretend that he couldn't see the tears in Lupin's eyes."Because I have to keep you safe," the wizard said quietly."If I don't, Voldemort wins."

"But what about Sirius?" Harry felt like his heart was breaking."What if he dies?"

From somewhere behind him, Harry heard a gasp as his friends realized what had happened.At the moment, though, he could hardly care.All he could think about was Sirius, his godfather who he'd found and now lost again… _No!This isn't fair!_Suddenly, Lupin's hands were on his shoulders, and Harry realized he was crying, which wasn't a very mature thing to do, but he didn't mind._Sirius…_

"Listen to me, Harry," Lupin said softly."Sirius may do a lot of things, but he never acts without a plan.He's going to save a life, not get himself killed.He'll be back.I know him; he'll be back."

As Lupin embraced him, Harry ceased to care who saw him cry.It only mattered that he might lose Sirius, no matter what Professor Lupin said.He might lose the only real family he had ever known.

They stayed that night in the Leaky Cauldron, desperately alert for any news about Sirius, but no one they talked to had heard anything.Harry tossed and turned all night long, plagued by horrible nightmares about what might be happening to Sirius, and hoping desperately that he was only imagining the pain in his scar.When he awoke the next morning, he felt terrible, and knew from one look at Professor Lupin as he approached the breakfast table that Sirius' best friend felt the same way.

Quietly, Harry sat down between Ron and Hermione.They ate in silence for a long while before Harry could stand it no longer."This is the first time I'm not excited about going back to school," he whispered.

"Oh, Harry…" Hermione put an arm around him, and for once he didn't mind."You're not alone, no matter what happens."

Ron's hand was on his shoulder, too."She's right.We're always here, Harry."

"Thanks," Harry answered, sucking back tears that threatened to rise."Thanks, guys."

Finally, he got control of himself, and noticed that Mr. Weasley was looking at them expectantly."Are you ready, Harry?"

He nodded without enthusiasm."Sure."

A little over an hour later, the three friends, accompanied by Ginny, George, and Fred (which made a tight squeeze in the compartment, but they didn't particularly care), sat quietly, trying to look on the bright side of things, but unable to find one.Suddenly, though, a faint scream came from outside the compartment.All six heads perked up, and George yanked the door open to hear better.Sure enough, the screech came again, but this time it was higher in pitch and full of exaggerated terror.

"Sound fake," Fred scowled.

"Sound like Malfoy."But as soon as Harry said it, he knew it couldn't be true.What would Malfoy be screaming about?

"You're right, it does," Ron agreed, jumping to his feet.

"Oh, what are you doing, Ron?" Hermione demanded.

"Hey, Malfoy's screaming," Ron replied with a grin."This has got to be good."

His words goaded them all into motion, and within moments, Harry, Hermione and the Weasleys were pouring out of the compartment on Ron's heels.They rushed forward, towards the middle of the train, and found themselves pushing and shoving their way through a bunch of half-frightened and half-curious first years.People were murmuring amongst themselves, trying to figure out what was going on, but no one seemed to know, even though George asked twice.Just when they were about to lose hope, though, another bout of high-pitched wailing told Harry they were getting close.

"Let's go!" he said, diving into the crowd and finally reaching the third car from the front of the train.When he finally made it into the car, though, the sight before his eyes made Harry stop cold.

Draco Malfoy was crouched in the corner, doing a very bad impression of a terrified individual.He was screaming, "Oh, help me!Help me!It's going to kill me!" over and over again, much to the amusement of a group of Slytherins who were gathered off to the other side of the car.

But Malfoy's bad acting wasn't what made Harry or the others skid to a stop.No, that was the figure of Professor Lupin, who was striding toward Malfoy purposefully.Instantly, Harry knew why Malfoy was acting at being frightened—he wanted the entire train to know that Professor Lupin was a werewolf.It was just another example of Malfoy's spite, but it infuriated Harry to see it.He started to step forward, but Ron grabbed his arm, hissing,"Wait."

Lupin walked straight up to Malfoy, and, ignoring the Slytherin's pitiful acting, grabbed the blonde-haired boy by the front of his robes and hauled him to his feet.

"Contain yourself, Mr. Malfoy, or you will find yourself with detention before the year has even started," Lupin said coldly.

Malfoy's eyes almost bugged out of his head; it was obvious that he hadn't expected Lupin to react without shame.But he recovered quickly and jerked away from the older man."You can't give me detention," he said haughtily."You're not a professor at Hogwarts anymore."

"I hate to disappoint you, Mr. Malfoy, but I am," Lupin responded."Professor Dumbledore has asked me to return to Hogwarts."

Even the snickering Slytherins shut up at those words—only Malfoy didn't have the sense to keep his thoughts to himself."But you're a werewolf!" he objected."My father and the other governors would never stand for a monst—"

"That will be quite enough," Lupin interjected, and Harry marveled at his control.Even though Malfoy's words had to hurt him, Lupin didn't _seem _bothered at all.His icy eyes bored into Malfoy, and Harry watched the Slytherin back up a step, probably without even meaning to.After a moment, though, Lupin stepped away from Malfoy and turned to the other Slytherins in the car."I expect all of you to contain yourselves and act like the young adults you are all supposed to be," he said with a small bite in his voice."I _don't_ expect that Professor Snape would be pleased to hear that his fifth, sixth, and seventh-year students are acting in such an undignified manner.Go to your compartments.Now."

Without a word of argument, the Slytherins disappeared, leaving the six Gryffindors standing in the passageway and staring at their professor.Lupin turned towards them, and he smiled.

"There you are," he said, approaching."I was just coming back to look for you."

Although Harry knew the others were grinning, he felt uneasy."Why didn't you tell us you were coming back?"

"I would have told you, Harry, if I was sure about it myself," Lupin responded gently."I got an owl from Professor Dumbledore right after all of you boarded the train.Until then, even I wasn't sure if I was coming back.I didn't want to tell any of you and then have to say I wasn't coming."

"So, are you teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts again?" Hermione asked excitedly.

For a moment, Lupin's eyes slid out of focus."I hope not."

----------------------

**Author's Note:I'm a wimp…can't leave anyone hanging for too long.So, please be nice to me and review… And stay tuned for "When Sirius met Snape" aka 'What happens when two people who hate each other's guts have to work together to survive?'. And stick around for some rather angry Voldemort, too… Till next time ****J**


	8. The Traitor

Death Before Dishonor

## 

## 

## Chapter Seven:The Traitor

The big black dog kept its nose glued to the ground as if afraid to lift it and lose the scent he tracked.He was tired and he was dirty, but he knew he was growing closer.The dog stopped and finally brought his head up, catching another scent in the air.A low growl came in the back of his throat, and for a moment the dog looked ready to kill, but then he shuddered and brought his head back down._Later_, the dog told himself._There's time for that later._In the distance, a large house came into view.

The wind shifted, and his sensitive ears picked up screaming.

The floor was cold.

It was also hard, dirty, and utterly uncomfortable, but all in all, it was much better than were he had been a short while ago.Where, judging from the sound of approaching footsteps, he would also be again in a very short amount of time.Sighing, Snape let his head drop back against the rocky floor in exhaustion.Fighting would be an exercise in futility, even if it would make him feel better (temporarily, anyway, until he lost), so all he could do was wait.

Two figures entered his dungeon, and hauled him to his feet without a word.Much to his surprise, Snape found that his legs would indeed support his weight, so as the Death Eaters half-dragged, half-carried him forward, he managed to maintain at least a small amount of control over his body._Like that's going to do me any good_, he thought irritably, blinking in the brighter light outside the dungeon.Suddenly, they stopped, and another Death Eater approached.

"Enjoying your accommodations?" the other snapped.

"I'm gratified that you put me in your best dungeon, Lucius," Snape purred, feeling oddly free of fear._I'm going to die_, he knew._So what?I knew this would happen eventually_.

He wasn't prepared for the blow that landed on the right side of his face; his head snapped back and Snape tasted blood.Wiggling his jaw experimentally, he cocked his head at his old classmate.The fury that lashed across Lucius Malfoy's face might have been amusing in any other circumstance, but right now it promised only pain—at the moment, though, Snape could have cared less.Later, he knew that it would matter a great deal, but he doubted even full cooperation would get him mercy at this point, and he wasn't particularly interested in finding out, anyway._The rules are different for dead men._

"Tell me why," Malfoy demanded harshly, 

Snape let his eyes burn into Malfoy's and finally spoke the truth after living a lifetime of lies."I learned the difference between what is right and what is _easy_."

Malfoy laughed.Snape hadn't expected that to get anywhere, but it felt good.Odd, how free he felt now.The senior Death Eater's voice grew cold, yet it held a hint of amusement."Bring him."

Snape swallowed fear._This is it._He knew they were brining him to Voldemort.

Up a flight of stairs and through two magically hidden doors, and they were suddenly in Lucius Malfoy's spacious living room.Off to his left, a fire was burning brightly, but that was the only light in the room.Before the fire sat a luxuriously heavy armchair, from which red eyes burned out to meet him.Voldemort vanished from his field of vision quickly, though, as the circle of Death Eaters came between them.Without a word from his escorts, Snape found himself thrown unceremoniously into the center of the circle.He stumbled, mentally cursing his weakened body, but caught himself.Eyes were upon him from every direction, but Snape resisted the urge to look around.That would only show fear.

Instead, he focused on the cloaked figure seated before him, and felt the Dark Mark burning painfully on his left arm.A small shiver of fear ran through Snape, but he repressed it viciously.He had always known this day would come, despite what Dumbledore had said.He was ready.Voldemort rose.

"Severus…" the Dark Lord hissed mockingly."Oh, Severus…what have you done?"

With an effort, Snape met Voldemort's gaze.Silence, he decided, was the best strategy._If I don't say anything, I can't give anything away_.Another shiver ran down his spine, but he held the Dark Lord's eyes, something he knew no Death Eater had ever done.

_"Crucio!"_

He had known it was coming, but that never helped.Snape hit the ground hard, knew he was screaming, and knew equally well that he couldn't do a damn thing about it.He felt his body convulsing, and a distant corner of his mind told him that time was passing, but he was beyond caring.All he felt was the pain, even though a small portion of him still registered the circle of silent Death Eaters that surrounded him, still heard Voldemort's voice calling him a traitor.Only an immense amount of experience with the Cruciatus curse allowed him to keep any attention on his surroundings, though, and finally even that failed him, and the world bled into pain.Some part of him realized, without caring, that this was definitely the longest time he'd ever been held under the curse; in fact, it was probably a record amongst the Death Eaters, but even as he thought of that, his ability to care dissipated.There was only pain.

Finally, it ended, and Snape closed his eyes for a moment, drawing deep breath._Lovely_.The pain might have lessened, but it didn't stop.Years of experience told him that it wouldn't for at least a few hours, longer if he didn't drink an antidote for the curse.__That seemed a little unlikely in the present circumstances, and rather than concentrate on impossibilities, Snape struggled to control his breathing.

"Get up," Voldemort commanded, and there was no point in arguing.Shakily, Snape rose, still silent.Once more, he met the Dark Lord's eyes, feeling amazingly calm, given the circumstances._The rules are different for dead men_, he thought again.

"So this is the traitor," Voldemort said softly."My _faithful_ Severus Snape… Tell me, Severus, how long have you been working for Dumbledore?"

He stared.There was silence, and then a pale hand reached out and grabbed him by the chin.Snape flinched as nails dug into his cheeks, but remained still.His heart pounded like thunder in his ears, and he wondered idly if the others could hear it, or if it only sounded so loud for him.

"Answer me!"

"No."He had long since decided that if he spoke, that was the only word he was going to say.No: he was going to defy the choices of his youth.No: he was going to keep faith.No: he would not betray Albus Dumbledore.

_"Crucio!"_

The pain was always worse the second time.On the way down, he felt his head crack into the floor, and Snape almost blacked out; unfortunately, the fates weren't kind enough to allow him that escape.His thoughts fled quicker this time, and it was all he could do to endure—endure or die; either would do.The agony grew greater, and he could not even hear himself screaming, could hardly feel his body convulsing on the floor.

It took Snape several long seconds of silence to realize that the curse had stopped. His throat hurt, and he knew it was from screaming.He slumped in exhaustion, blinking and staring blankly at the ceiling as he struggled to clear his vision.There was blood seeping down the left side of his face, and the Dark Mark was burning more painfully than ever.He blinked once more, and then rolled to his feet.He was going to die, but he had to play the game until the end._Excellent career choice, Severus_, a sarcastic voice inside his head snapped._Just the way you always wanted to die—alone and in pain_, it jeered, but resolve silenced it._No, _Snape thought to himself._Just the way I always knew I would._

"Feeling cooperative yet, Severus?" Voldemort asked idly.Snape noticed that the Dark Lord was seated once more.Around him, Death Eaters shifted uneasily, and the spy realized that they had already been there for quite awhile.Daylight was shining through the living room window; it had to be noon, judging from the sun.The students would already be on the Hogwarts Express._Well, at least I did one thing right._

"No."

"Crucio."

The curse came in a casual voice, but there was nothing casual about the way his body spasmed and collapsed.Pain.Blackness.Gray.Pain.When it finally ended, Snape didn't bother rising.Not if he was just going to hit the floor again.Besides, he wasn't sure if he could or not.Breathing was getting difficult.

"Everyone breaks, Severus.It's only a matter of how long that takes," Voldemort reminded him.

He stared at the ceiling, too spent to do anything more.Snape braced himself for pain."I'd rather die."

There was no curse.Instead, Voldemort laughed."Oh, you will.Eventually."

_How nice, _his mind replied sarcastically, but he bit his tongue._If you can't say anything nice, Severus, don't say anything at all._He almost laughed aloud at the irony in that thought, but caught himself in time.Voldemort definitely wouldn't understand what he found so funny._"Crucio!"_

It seemed like hours; for all Snape knew, it could have been.There were questions, many questions, and even more pain, but after awhile, Voldemort simply stopped asking.Snape knew he hadn't given up; rather, the Dark Lord was just allowing him to be worn down, grinding his resistance down through torture.Around the circle the curses went, one from each Death Eater present, and Snape lost count.He stopped caring; there was simply agony.This was hell.Once, sharp and sudden pain brought momentary awareness, and he felt his right leg hit the wooden floor just wrong, felt it snap under the pressure.Then there was nothing, nothing except for pain and more pain, but no matter how hard Snape tried to lose himself, he could not.There was always a long enough pause to ensure that he reminded conscious.

The pain stopped, and the spacious room was silent except for Snape's labored breathing.He was shaking now, in fits and starts, but he was also beyond caring.Somehow, he'd ended up face down, and he couldn't remember having flipped over, but the ache in his chest told him that he'd broken at least a rib or two when he had.Thankful for the pause, he lay still, not bothering to move and sure that would hurt too much.There was blood under him, he realized, which made him idly wonder if more than just his head was bleeding.

Abruptly, magic yanked him to his feet, but before he could even dream about getting his feet underneath his body, an invisible hand shoved him to his knees.Snape cried out as broken leg bent.

"Severus…" Voldemort's voice broke through his haze of pain."Why must you do this to yourself?You know you will break eventually."

Snape didn't have the energy to reply.He only hoped he had the energy left to die, and soon.His head was spinning, but the Dark Lord was continuing, his voice oddly soft and falsely compassionate.

"Tell me how to breach Hogwarts' defenses, and I shall let you die."

_Death_…how tempting.That was the only mercy had left for him, Snape knew, the only way to end it all.He had come knowing he would die, and had begun to wish for it as the hours passed.To die, and to end the pain… _Hogwarts_, he thought suddenly, and his mind cleared with painful abruptness._Dumbledore._

"No," he croaked.

Through the window, the black dog watched as Severus Snape finally lost consciousness.Interested, it studied the figures that took Snape through the hidden doorway that led to the dungeons, and waited, watching as the Death Eaters Disapparated one by one.When the room was empty, no one noticed that the black dog had become a man.

Snape awoke the moment hands touched the magically enhanced chains that held him to the floor, but he didn't bother to open his eyes._I'd rather be unconscious, thank you_, he thought crossly.With a click, the chains popped open._If I act like I'm dead, will they leave me alone?Probably not_.Still, it was worth trying._Think dead.Think unconscious.Think—_

"_Ennervate_," a voice muttered.

A wave of energy ran through his body, but against the oppressive pain and weakness rushing through him, it really wasn't much._Wait a minute!_His eyes flew open and immediately recognized the figure bending over him.Snape scowled.

"I should have known it'd be you," he snarled.

"Well, good morning, Prince Charming," Sirius Black responded merrily.His eyes were dancing, which only made Snape's mood grow even fouler._I will never, ever, forgive him for this_, he vowed silently._The bastard._

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Saving your life, Severus," Black replied.Then his expression grew serious."Can you walk?"

"Of course I can walk," Snape snapped irritably.There was no way he'd show weakness in front of _him_."What do I look like, a child?"

"What you look like is hell," Black replied."But we don't have time to argue.Here."Without another word, the other man hauled Snape to his feet.

A wave of dizziness swept through the Death Eater, and he bit back a hiss in pain.But then, as pain shot up his right leg and he felt it buckle, he remembered that it was broken and had to hold back a cry.That took much more effort than he'd ever admit to, and much to his embarrassment, Black caught him before he could fall.Fortunately, Black had the sense not to comment on it, and Snape managed to support most of his own weight through force of will alone.

Black looped an arm under his shoulders in support."There are Anti-Apparition fields all over this dungeon," he said."But there aren't any upstairs.When we get up there, can you Apparate?"

"Yes, of course I can Apparate," he replied, trying to hang on to his temper.It wasn't working."Let's just get out of here before we both get caught."

"Don't want me for a next-door neighbor, Severus?"But Black moved forward willingly enough, and with his help, Snape hobbled towards the stairway.

The stairs were harder than he had thought they would be.They took them one step at a time, but Snape discovered that his right leg was fluctuating between numbness and excruciating pain.It didn't want to bend right, rebelled at the idea of supporting any weight, and made a downright nuisance out of itself.He hated to admit it, but it was a very good thing that Black was standing to his right, otherwise he would have toppled down the stairs for sure.Trying to shut the pain away drove him to distraction, and Snape tried to concentrate on anything but his leg.That seemed to help a little.

What he really wanted to know was how Black had gotten through the multiple layers of wards on the dungeons.Now was not the time for questions, though, and he figured that he could save it for later; besides, he really didn't want to have to depend on Black for anything, even answers._Jerk_, he swore._If he doesn't wipe that insufferable grin off his face—and I know it's there—I'm going to turn him into a French Poodle.A tiny, yipping, black French Poodle wearing a pink collar with a bow on top.A big, floppy bow._

_Damn, I need my wand for that!And to Apparate!_

They finally reached the top of the stairway and made it through the second hidden doorway.The living room was empty, now, but Severus saw an ominous stain on the floor that had to be his blood._Wonder why the house elves haven't cleaned that up yet?_ he thought idly, then wrenched his mind back to the present.One look at Black told him that the asinine expression was gone, but Snape still scowled again.He hated asking for anything.

"I don't suppose you possessed the foresight to retrieve my wand, did you?" he asked sarcastically.

Snape's eyebrows shot up as Black reached inside the left side of his robes and withdrew two wands.He extended one to Snape, still supporting him."Here."

A wave of relief washed through him as Snape accepted the wand, and he hoped it didn't show on his face.His wand was certainly one thing he hadn't expected to see again—abruptly, he realized he was staring, and tore his gaze away from the wand.

"Where are we Apparating to?"

"The Forbidden Forest."Black shot a glance around the room, and Snape noticed that it was growing dark outside the window.Black had spoken so casually that it took a moment before his words sank in.

"Are you mad?" Snape demanded."Not only is most of the forest warded against Apparition, it's full of dangerous beasts.We'll be dead before we reach the castle."

"Would you prefer to take your chances with Voldemort?" Black asked mildly.

Snape snarled and glared, but he knew that no matter how dangerous the Forbidden Forest was, trudging through it was safer than staying.Anything was safer than staying."Fine," he growled, then couldn't resist getting in a dig of his own."I suppose the werewolves don't bother you, anyway, do they?"

Fury blossomed in Black's eyes for a moment, and the Potions Master had to stop himself from flinching.This time it was Black's turn to snarl, "Don't make me regret saving you, Snape."

Their eyes locked, and every bit of their old animosity flared back into being.For a moment, Snape considered hexing Black in the nastiest way he could think of, regardless of the circumstances, and it was clear by the look on the other's face that he was considering the same thing.Both of them tensed for action, remembering every reason they had to hate each other, every miserable and malicious prank, every gloating smile and every detention they'd served for fighting with each other—it would be so easy, so simply, so _satisfying _to finally bring an end to their feud.There was no Dumbledore to stop them now.There was no responsibility to stand in the way._Dumbledore! _Snape thought suddenly, and blinked, opening his mouth to say it could wait, but Black beat him to it.

"Never mind," he said."Northern edge of the forest.Quickly."

At least that was bearable.No apologies necessary on either side._We'll just leave it alone.Forget it happened.We have better things to do._ Nodding, Snape pointed his wand at himself and disappeared.

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**Author's Note:I apologize to everyone who tried to read and couldn't…FFN's uploader was down, and I'd tried to fix an error I found (ending in getting no page whatsoever, of course). Thanks for your patience. Keep reading…please?And of course, thank you for all the wonderful reviews… ****J If I ask nicely, would you give me more?Stay tuned for Sirius and Snape's attempt at escape—life can never be easy.**


	9. Escape

Death Before Dishonor

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## 

## Chapter Eight:Escape

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Apparating wasn't the best idea he'd ever had.The process itself, of course, worked fine—Snape had plenty of practice Apparating when he was feeling like crap—but it was the standing part that disagreed with him.Immediately after appearing in the Forbidden Forest without Black to support him, he collapsed, letting loose a string of curses that would have made even Lucius Malfoy blush.Snape barely stopped before he howled in pain, but decided that drawing attention to himself wasn't a good idea, either.He looked around, but saw nothing.Nothing at all: nothing dangerous, nothing alive, and certainly nothing that resembled Sirius Black._Where the hell is he?_

Snape growled angrily, but even that seemed to take a lot of energy.He managed to sit up, winching at the pain in his broken ribs, and watched with interest as the forest spun around him.For such a dark place, it was rather colorful… _Pretty_, he thought stupidly._Looks almost like a rainbow flavored pensive…_Suddenly, without knowing how he got there, he was lying on his back again, staring up at what little of the sky he could see through the trees.It, too, was moving, swirling around like a rather ill tempered but slow moving tornado._Odd,_ he thought._I've never seen it do that, before._

"Snape?" a voice called in the distance, and he realized vaguely that it had been shouting that name for some time._Hope they find who they're looking for…_He'd never realized how comfortable the forest floor could be.Too bad there was something underneath the small of his back.Otherwise, he might have been able to fall asleep._"Severus!"_

Snape's head jerked around towards the voice, and he glared angrily at the interruption._Wait a minute…_When he took a deep breath, the dizziness retreated._What am I doing?_ He remembered starting to sit up, and then everything had started to spin…_Snap out of it, Severus!_Footsteps crashed through the undergrowth, and suddenly Sirius Black was standing over him.

"What are you doing?" Black asked with confusion, and Snape sighed, too angry to even lie.

"My leg's broken," he snapped.

"Why the hell didn't you mention that before, you idiot?" Black demanded.Snape glared at him."Oh, get over it._Ferula._"

Trying to ignore the fact that Black had just splinted his leg—something that Snape felt too dizzy to do for himself at the moment—he commented sarcastically, "I didn't realize you were a purveyor of the healing arts, Black."

"I'm not," the other replied."In fact, you just tested me up to the limit of my abilities, so don't expect miracles.Now, what else is wrong with you?"

"Broken ribs, crack in the head, and a few too many Cruciatus curses."There was no point in lying to the man.He felt like hell, but watched suspiciously as Black conjured up a stretcher."I am not riding on that.I can walk."

Black glared at him."Don't be stupid, Snape.I'm sure you can walk, but you'll make a hell of a racket and slow us down too much.You and I both know that they're going to be tailing us soon as they notice you're gone."

"Fine," Snape snapped.The jerk was right, and the professor knew all too well that Dark Magic could track Apparition.They were going to need all the head start they could get, which was the only reason why he allowed himself to be floated onto the stretcher.

With him aboard, the stretcher lifted gently off the ground and followed Black as he set out through the forest.They traveled in silence, with Snape watching the other wizard's back warily, but Black seemed to know exactly where he was going._Small wonder_, he thought irritably._Of course he knows where he's going.He's probably been in here a million times with Lupin and their other friends._However, he had to admit that Black's experience was serving them well now.Snape hadn't even seen the slightest hint of a path, which meant they were staying the heck away from anywhere the Death Eaters would approach.After all, most Death Eaters had attended Hogwarts, and unlike Black (but like Snape) they had a healthy respect for the forest's collection of strange creatures and beasts, and wanted to stay as far away from them as possible.He just hoped that would be enough.

Black moved swiftly through the forest, with an easy confidence that Snape could feel envious of when forced to lie flat on his back.From time to time, various creatures cried out in the distance, but none approached, and Black did not seem worried.Snape forced the beasts out of his mind.After all, he was a fully trained wizard, and knew more than a few spells for dealing with hostile creatures._If you can manage to do any of them at the moment_, the nasty voice reminded him._You're awfully weak_.

Shut up.

However, Snape knew the voice was right.He wasn't nearly as dizzy as he had been before, but Apparating had taken all the reserves of strength he had, and an exhausted and dizzy wizard tended to produce uncertain results when casting spells._Not to mention the fact that pain is the easiest way to lose your concentration.Damn Voldemort.I've never felt this awful in my life._A thought crossed his mind.

"Why did Dumbledore send _you_, anyway?" he asked."And how did he know where I was?"

__"Dumbledore didn't send me."

"What?" Lifting his head, Snape stared at him incredulously.But then he started thinking, and everything started to make sense."Wait a minute.You were at the Weasleys'.I thought I recognized the signature in those wards.They were yours."

"Mine and Remus', yes," Black replied, glancing over his shoulder at him."You are good.We thought we covered that well."

"You did," Snape admitted grudgingly, trying to figure out if Black had just complimented him or not.Pushing that thought aside, he continued."So you're the one who Dumbledore sent after Potter.Why didn't you just so with the Weasleys?"He had to ask, even though it made him slightly uncomfortable."Why did you come after me?"

Black was silent for a long moment before finally responding, his eyes on the forest once more."You risked your life to save Harry's," he said quietly."I wasn't going to let you die."

"After the history we've had?" Snape scoffed.

"I may not _like_ you, Snape, but that doesn't mean I feel you deserve to die in Voldemort's hands," Black replied frankly.

The honest response threw the Death Eater off balance.Searching for a response, he finally settled on sarcasm to cover his discomfort."So you think we're even now for that trick you played, I guess?Feel that by saving my life you can erase the fact that you tried to kill me once?"

His words made Black stop and stare at him.The other's face was unreadable, but Snape had a pretty good idea that he was struggling to hold his temper in check._Good_._I owe you enough anxiety to last a lifetime_, he thought irritably._I hope you feel guilty about that.Bastard._The other man's jaw was working furiously, and Snape wished he'd just get it out and start moving again before someone found them.Finally, Black spoke.

"If you haven't figured out by now that it was a stupid, adolescent trick that wasn't meant to do anything but scare you, you're more dense and less mature than I think you are," he responded."And no, that's not why I saved you.I saved you because I respect what you've done in the fight against Voldemort.You have sacrificed an awful lot, and I respect that, too.And I owe you for saving Harry's life."

Well, that certainly wasn't the angry response Snape had expected, and it threw him off-balance enough that he couldn't reply.He just stared.So did Black, who met his eyes, for once with no arrogance and no condensation.There was no trace of the overconfident boy from Hogwarts in his stance or his face, only a man whom Snape did not recognize at all.They looked at one another for long moments in silence.

"I will probably never like you, Snape," Sirius Black admitted."But I can respect you and your abilities."Without warning, he held out his right hand.

"Dumbledore asked us to make a truce once, but we both know neither of us really meant it.But he was right.We _are_ on the same side.I propose we make that truce now."

Snape opened his mouth to say no but stopped.That was a knee-jerk reaction, born out of years of hatred—was it really worthy of him?He had changed since his days at Hogwarts in some very important ways; was it impossible to believe that Black might have to?And even if not, did that matter?_He's right_, Snape finally admitted to himself._We are on the same side.Dumbledore said that, but I wasn't really listening._He shot a glance at his rescuer, and felt ironically amused._At least I wasn't the only one._Reaching up, he took Sirius Black's hand.

"Truce," Snape replied.

Black smiled ever so slightly."Truce."

Their handshake was a little longer than the one in the Hospital Wing had been all those months ago, and this time, at least Snape didn't feel like he was going to get a heavy case of the boils out of touching the other man.Moments later, Black was moving forward once again, and Snape felt the stretcher pick up speed as it followed him.The continued in silence, but this time it wasn't nearly as uncomfortable as it had been before.Sighing quietly, Snape stared up at the sky and started wondering what new kinds of students he would get in Slytherin this year.It was an old exercise, but not one he'd allowed himself to indulge in before now._Probably because I didn't think I'd live to see them_, he admitted inwardly.

He felt oddly free.Obviously, he could not return to the fold now, and for the first time in many years, he felt that his life was his own.It belonged to _him_.No one else.It felt very strange, but also very good.Intellectually, of course, he knew that his betrayal of Voldemort made him a target, but he could accept that.He could accept being hunted by Death Eaters everywhere he went, because he knew that Voldemort's defeat would end it.And now he could act freely against the Dark Lord; he didn't have creep in shadows or live a lie.Finally, he was free.

"Hey, look, it's a werewolf," Black suddenly commented, bringing him out of his reverie.

"What?Where?" Snape grabbed for his wand.Even as he got a hold on it, though, he knew he'd been had.Black was laughing.

"Black, you bastard!"He looked around for something to throw at the other man, but couldn't find anything other than his wand.At that moment, he would have given absolutely anything to be able to strangle the other wizard.Finally, Black looked over his shoulder at him, his eyes dancing, but gaining control of his mirth.

"You need a sense of humor, Severus," he grinned.

"Bastard," Snape hissed, but in the face of the other man's grin, he sighed."Fine, you got me.Are you satisfied?"

"Not until you learn how to take a joke," Black called over his shoulder, moving again.

"Never," he growled.

"Don't challenge me, Snape!"

"Bastard."

They moved along in silence for another ten minutes or so, and Snape estimated that they had to be at least halfway to the school by now.Again, he glanced at the sky, trying to judge the time, but it was hard._I hope we arrive before or after the Sorting Ceremony, _he thought to himself._I really don't want to wander into a gaggle of undisciplined first years on their way to the castle._

"Snape?" Black's voice interrupted his thought process.

"Hmm?" he grunted.

"Why'd you do it?"

The seriousness in the other's voice made Snape sigh.There was only one question Black could be asking, and Black was probably the only person stupid enough to ask.No one else ever dared."Why did I betray Voldemort, you mean?"

"Yes."

He supposed he could refuse to answer, but there seemed to be no point.The man _had _saved his life, after all, and another argument would do them no good.That would only slow their pace, and in the end, Snape figured that he could survive the question.It wasn't like he hadn't asked it of himself a million and one times before.Surprisingly enough, though, Black did not goad him; he only waited until Snape was ready to speak.Despite himself, he sighed again.

"I got tired of pretending that I _liked _it," he answered quietly."I realized that I did not enjoy watching people suffer.Power wasn't all it claimed to be."

"You never did seem the type," Black agreed after a moment.

"What?" Snape stared at his back in confusion.

Black shrugged."You were a jerk, sure, but you were never, I don't know…dark enough.You seemed to be trying too hard."

"I'll take that in the spirit it was intended," Snape snorted, unable to find anything else to say.

They continued in silence for another minute or two, but a question had started to eat at Snape's mind, and he began wondering if he should ask.It was something he'd always wondered about and had never been able to understand, and since they seemed to be playing the question and answer game (it was amazing what a lonely walk through a dark forest would do), he supposed that he might as well ask.

"My turn," he said suddenly, and almost bit his tongue off.He hadn't meant to speak yet!

"For what?"

Snape rolled his eyes.Wasn't it obvious?"To ask a question."

"And?" Black prompted.His voice sounded slightly wary.Good.

"Why didn't you three ever turn him in?"

He thought he saw Black's shoulders tense.He asked, "Remus?"

"Yes."

"Because it's not his fault that he's a werewolf," Black replied immediately."And because he's a good man.People have always ostracized him for whathe is without looking beyond that to see _who_ he is.That's wrong, and it's not fair to him.Every day except for the full moon, he is a smart and likeable guy, but what happens once a month is enough to make nearly everyone fear him, even people who should know better."

Snape wondered if that last part was aimed at him, but he brushed by it."He's dangerous."

"Only once a month."

"You became _Animagi _for him.All three of you," Snape said incredulously."You could have gotten yourselves killed doing that.Whatever possessed you to try it?"

"Friendship."

He rolled his eyes."Nothing's that simple."

"Isn't it?"

"Everyone has ulterior motives," Snape replied.

"Then what was yours for betraying Voldemort and turning into a spy?" Sirius countered.

"I wanted out," Snape brushed his piercing words away."I did that for myself."

"If you just wanted out, you could have run," the other pointed out.

"And died."

"And being a spy held less chance of that?You can't tell me that.You knew exactly what you were risking, and you chose to do it anyway.You almost paid the price for that tonight."Black looked over his shoulder at him again."What's the ulterior motive there?"

Snape looked at him crossly.He growled, "I did it because it was the right thing to do."

"My point exactly.Some things are that simple," Black said softly, and Snape stared at him irritably.Why did the bastard have to be right?The other man smiled slightly."You should have been a Gryffindor, Snape." 

"What?" he gawked, almost choking on his own tongue.Snape felt like his eyes were going to bug out of his head.He'd never been so insulted in his life!It was a long moment before he could manage to speak, and even then, his voice was a low snarl."I'm sure you meant that as a compliment, Black, but if it's all the same to you, I'll stay in Slytherin."

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**Author's Note:I apologize to everyone who tried to read and couldn't…FFN's uploader was down. Thanks for your patience. Well, their troubles aren't over quite yet, but stay tuned for the students' arrival at Hogwarts…and a few others surprises besides.Thanks for reading, and please review!**


	10. The Great Hall

Death Before Dishonor

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## 

## Chapter Nine:The Great Hall

Harry followed Ron and Hermione into the Great Hall, for once in his life not pausing to admire the sheer beauty of the place.Instead, he tried to look as far ahead as he could over the heads of the students in front of him, hoping to see Professor Snape.It was the first time he'd _ever_ wanted to see the greasy-haired potions professor, but at the moment, Snape's presence would fulfill his dearest wish.He knew that Ron, Hermione, George, Fred, and Ginny were doing the same, because although they all hated the potions teacher as much as Harry did, they were all thinking the same thing.If Snape was there, that meant Sirius was safe.

Finally, Harry caught sight of the Head table, and his eyes tracked over it hurriedly, glancing from the right hand side—which he'd seen first, and traveling down to the table's left end.There was Professor Flitwick, the Charms Professor, on the far right; to his left was Professor Sprout, who was next to Professor Sinistra.The next teacher made him smile slightly; Remus Lupin had explained to them that he was, contrary to what they would have expected, back at Hogwarts to replace Professor Binns as the History of Magic Professor.Next to him was Professor McGonagall's seat, empty, of course, because she was retrieving the first year students.

Next, in the very center of the table, sat Professor Dumbledore, but at his left there were _two_ empty seats.Harry's heart fell.One of them belonged to Professor Snape, he was sure, and the other, probably, judging from the rest of the table, was their yet to arrive Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor.He hardly bothered to notice Madam Pomfrey, Professor Trelawney, or Hagrid's presence on the left side of the table.Harry was too busy wondering what might be happening with Snape—and therefore Sirius.

"He's not here," Harry whispered to Ron.

"I know."Ron's face was as unhappy as his own; Professor Lupin had explained to Hermione and the Weasleys that (as Harry had already known) that Snape was Professor Dumbledore's spy within the Death Eaters, and although it hadn't made any of them like him anymore, they all understood that Snape's life could be in danger because of the warning he had sent them.And Sirius was off trying to save him.

"Come on," Hermione hissed."We've got to sit down."

Heart heavy, Harry followed her and the Weasleys to the Gryffindor table, trying to smile as friends and classmates shouted greetings to one another.

_"Tarantallegra!"_

"Dancing spell, Black?" Snape demanded, already off the stretcher and in motion."Is that the best you can think of?"

"Come on!"Black grabbed his arm, and they started running._Try not to think about the pain.Ignore it.Run.Concentrate on making legs move._Snape's companion shot a look over his shoulder and pointed his wand in that direction._"Incendio!"_

"Fire," Snape grunted."Much better."

"Picky, aren't we?"

To their rear, Death Eaters were screaming, a sure indication that Black had gotten at least one of them.Their feet pounded on the damp ground, and Snape gritted his teeth, ignoring the pain and his feeling of helplessness.He was getting dizzy already, and knew better than to trust himself with complicated spells."Not usually," he panted."But a dancing curse?Really, Black, I thought you were better than that."

"On the tip of my wand," the other retorted, glancing back again.Knowing he probably didn't want to know, Snape did the same.He growled.

"Got anything else up your sleeve?"

"Sure.Pick one: jelly legs, tickling, or boils," the other laughed.

"Black!This is serious!"He _couldn't _believe the idiot!Tracked by at least five Death Eaters, the moron was joking around!They didn't have time for this—Snape would have hit him if it would have knocked sense into the other wizard, but he figured that after this many years, someone had to have tried that already, and it plainly hadn't worked.

Suddenly, Black skidded to a stop, with a shout of "Keep going!"

Since he had little choice in the matter, Snape scowled but kept moving as quickly as he could.However, when he heard the string of nasty curses and spells Black was releasing behind him, he decided his judgment might have been a tad hasty.Perhaps the idiot _did_ know how to be serious.

The first years entered the hall behind Professor McGonagall, and despite his melancholy, Harry concentrated all his attention on them.As usual, they were glancing around the hall with wide and interested eyes, taking in everything they could in those first few moments.Harry smiled slightly, remembering his own first evening at Hogwarts, and wondering if he'd ever looked that young.This was only the third Sorting he had made it to, and he was grateful that it was interesting enough to distract him.

Solemnly, Professor McGonagall brought the Sorting Hat and its stool, and Harry couldn't help but grin with the others as the first years looked at the Hat with a mixture of terror and fascination.Suddenly, Hermione spoke from his left.

"They look so young," she whispered, unknowingly echoing Harry's thoughts."I wonder if they realize what's happening in the world."

"I think we would have, if we were in their place," Harry responded quietly."But I hope they do, too."

Ron elbowed him."Pay attention!It's starting."

Every year, the Sorting Hat sung a different song, but this year, the words were amazingly unlike anything they had heard before.A ripple ran through the Great Hall as the Sorting Hat began its song; the melody had darker and sadder overtures than it had ever held before.A shiver ran down Harry's spine as he listened, realizing that the world was indeed changing.It showed even at Hogwarts; they were at war.

_"Here you stand in an ancient hall,_

_Separated but together strong;_

_Friendships you will form_

_And history you will make,_

_In the first steps on a journey_

_You have come here to make._

_Different strengths you'll find,_

_Yet in time you can see,_

_Variation and variety is how Hogwarts came to be._

_So step up one by one_

_And place me on your head,_

_Inside of you I will see_

_And know where you need to be._

_Some will be in Gryffindor,_

_Those brave, bold, and true;_

_Others belong in Ravenclaw,_

_For wisdom, strength, and intellect;_

_Still some will go to Hufflepuff,_

_Loyal, hardworking, and fair;_

_And ambition goes to Slytherin,_

_Powerful, cunning, and sly._

_So pull me down around your ears,_

_And come to face your fate:_

_For in dark times are darker days_

_In which to face your fears."_

Everyone was still as the hat finished, and Harry felt that you could hear a pin drop in the Great Hall.The dark tone of the song surprised everyone so much that it seemed no one remembered to applaud; they all just stared.Stealing a look at Professor McGonagall's face, he noticed that she looked rather startled as well.Finally, though, she shook the feeling off and stepped forward with the roll of names.

The sorting began, and everyone seemed to have forgotten their shock at the different song, although Harry noticed that Professor Dumbledore, instead of wearing his usual merry expression, looked very serious indeed.He was about to mention this to Ron and Hermione, but was cut off as the entire Gryffindor table burst into cheers as Neville Longbottom's cousin was sorted into their house.For once, Neville didn't look nervous about anything—he was smiling hugely—and Harry decided not to ruin the moment.By the time the sorting was over, the Headmaster was smiling, and he stood.

"I have only three words to say to you," he said with a smile."Purple-eyed fish."

"About time!" Ron exalted, even as Harry overheard George comment,

"He gets weirder every year."

"No kidding," Fred agreed."But, oh—give me that!"

And so the feast went on, with the first years talking nervously to each other and their new housemates in between bouts of stuffing the excellent food into their faces.Harry, for his part, found himself growing a little happier, despite his worry for Sirius—it was hard not to, given the festive atmosphere in the hall.Besides, he was hungry, and the food was wonderful, as always.Finally, when everyone had eaten their full and had finished off the excellent desert, the Headmaster stood.

"Before you are sent off to your rooms, I have a few announcements for the beginning of the term," Professor Dumbledore said with a slight smile."As always, all students are to be reminded that entering the forest is strictly forbidden, and trips to the village of Hogsmeade are restricted to students in the third year and above.

"Furthermore, I would like to introduce—or reintroduce, as the case may be—our new History of Magic Professor.Professor Binns, whom I am sure all of you remember" (there was a sigh of relief from almost all of the returning students, because Professor Binns had been the most boring teacher at Hogwarts) "has decided to retire from teaching.However, his ghost has agreed to continue to haunt the grounds from time to time."There was general laughter at that; although some of the first years looked frightened, everyone else knew that Professor Binns would never be creative enough to do anything worth worrying over.

"Therefore," Dumbledore continued, "I would like to present Professor Remus Lupin, who has returned after one year away from Hogwarts."

There was applause from everywhere except the Slytherin table, Harry noticed, but before it could really get going, Professor Dumbledore held up a hand for silence."However, there is something that Professor Lupin and I have decided you all need to know: Professor Lupin is a werewolf."

A ripple ran through the hall; many gasped in surprise, and Harry thought he heard one first year girl actually scream before an older student clapped a hand over her mouth.For his part, Harry simply stared at Lupin, who, despite looking slightly grim, nodded.Whispers erupted around him, though, and Professor Dumbledore let it continue for a moment before signaling for silence once more.

"There are a few things you must all understand," he said levelly, losing his smile."First of all, Professor Lupin has my complete trust.Throughout his life, he has been feared and ostracized because of a condition he cannot help._This will not happen at Hogwarts_.Professor Lupin is as human as anyone in this room.You will show him the same respect that you would any member of the Hogwarts staff.

"Second, you will all be pleased to know that a recent advance in the Wolfsbane Potion allows Professor Lupin to keep complete control of himself when he transforms.Accordingly, he is no more dangerous than an Animagus would be.Professor Lupin has returned to Hogwarts at my request because I feel that, during these times, each and every one of you needs to understand our world, and what is at stake with the return of Lord Voldemort."

Nearly the entire student body gasped this time; although Harry was used to saying Voldemort's name, nearly every other student was not, and he heard many whispering fearfully to their neighbors.Also, he knew that the Ministry of Magic had been trying to cover up Voldemort's return, despite the evidence that they had been given, and that meant that many of the new students probably did not even know he was back.For his part, Harry sat uncomfortably, reminded not only of Cedric's death, but also of the two empty chairs to Dumbledore's right.

"My final two announcements concern other professors," the Headmaster continued after giving the hall a chance to quiet down."I regret to inform you that Professor Snape, our Potions Master, has been delayed in his return to school.Hopefully, he will be with us soon."As he spoke, Dumbledore's eyes shifted briefly to Harry and his companions, and they knew from his look that the Headmaster still did not know.Dumbledore returned his attention to the entire hall.

"Likewise, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor has also been detained.Until both these professors return, Professor Lupin will be teaching the Defense Against the Dark Arts class, and Professor McGonagall will be teaching Potions.Now, if all prefects will lead their first years to the dormitories, it is bedtime for—"

With a loud _creak_, the doors to the Great Hall had opened.Everyone turned to look, thinking how odd it was for someone to interrupt Professor Dumbledore's speech for the second year in a row, but all comparisons with Mad-Eye Moody's entrance died on students' lips as two figures made their way into the hall, one leaning heavily on the other.Excitedly, Harry jumped to his feet.It was Sirius and Snape.

Snape looked terrible.There was blood on the left side of his face, a splint on his right leg, and he seemed horribly pale and shaky.It appeared that he would fall over if not for Sirius' support—then Harry's view of his godfather was blocked as other students jumped up, but he still caught a glimpse of Dumbledore running down the long aisle to meet them, followed closely by Lupin and McGonagall.

The hall was erupting with shouts, and like Harry, many of the students rushed forward for a closer look.Sirius had lowered Snape to the floor even as Professor Dumbledore turned around.

"Poppy!" he called, gesturing for Madam Pomfrey, the school nurse, who immediately got caught up in the gathering crowd.Looking around himself, Harry noticed that the entire Slytherin table had emptied and come forward, but he supposed that was to be expected.Snape was the head of their house, after all.Suddenly, Professor McGonagall's voice rang out.

"Back!" she cried."Back to your tables, all of you.And _sit down_!"

Reluctantly, Harry did so, and then realized that he actually had a better view from the Gryffindor table than he did in the packed group of students.Sirius was kneeling next to Snape, opposite Professor Dumbledore, and Snape was speaking quietly.Madam Pomfrey was kneeling at the Potions Master's head, frowning irritably.Professor Lupin stood behind Sirius, listening, and all the other professors milled around nearby, waiting and trying to figure out what, if anything, to do.

A murmur ran through the hall as the Headmaster conjured up a stretcher and floated Snape onto it gently.Dumbledore rose and exchanged a few words with Professor McGonagall, and then the stretcher began to float towards the doors, followed by Madam Pomfrey, Sirius, and the Headmaster.

"If I can have your attention, please," Professor McGonagall announced, "I am afraid you will all be going to bed a little late tonight.You are _all_"—here, she looked pointedly in the direction of certain individuals seated at the Gryffindor and Slytherin tables—"to remain in the Great Hall until the Headmaster returns."

More murmurs greeted her words, but no one moved.For a moment, Draco Malfoy looked as if he were considering objecting, but a glance from McGonagall skewered him nicely and kept him in his seat.Together, all the remaining professors moved back to the head table and resumed their seats.Harry noticed immediately that McGonagall turned to Lupin, and asked a question.As Lupin answered, her face grew slightly pale, and Harry became sure that Sirius' friend was relating the events of the past two days to the Deputy Headmistress.

Finally, Hermione spoke in a low whisper."At least we know they're alive."

"Yeah," Ron agreed."But Snape looked _awful_."

"I wonder what happened," Harry thought quietly.He might have hated Snape—a feeling matched only by Snape's hatred for him—but he wouldn't wish Voldemort's torture on anyone, especially having endured some of it himself at the end of the previous school year.However, something told him that Snape had definitely experienced a much worse time of it than Harry had.

"I don't know if I want to know," Ron replied.

"Me neither," Hermione said.

They fell silent, listening to the other students chatter.There was not much variety in the topics covered; almost everyone was speculating on what could have happened to Snape, but a few people were trying to guess Sirius' identity.Harry grinned at that, realizing that his godfather did look a lot different than he had in all the Ministry's wanted ads.He looked a lot younger, for one, and he'd also cut his hair to the length that it had been in the picture from Harry's parents' wedding.Overall, he looked nothing like what anyone expected the escaped convict to look like, and from the wide range of guesses he heard, Harry knew that no one had any idea.

"I wonder what they're going to say about Snape," Hermione finally said.

"I dunno.The truth?" Ron asked.

"That would scare a lot of people," she replied seriously, but Harry found himself staring at Draco Malfoy.

"Or make some very angry," he said quietly.His friends followed his gaze to the Slytherin table, and he heard Hermione gasp slightly as she understood his point.

"Oh…" she whispered.

"Do you think he _knows_?" Ron wondered.

"I don't think so," Harry replied."He looks too confused.But I bet you anything that he knows that Snape was…you know."Harry didn't dare say 'Death Eater' in the Great Hall in case he was overheard.On one hand, he supposed he shouldn't care about if Snape did or did not want anyone to know, but then again, he also felt that wasn't his revelation to make.

"You're right."Hermione glared at Malfoy."I bet he _does _know.Him and all his slimy Slytherin friends."

"Jerks, all of 'em," Ron agreed.Suddenly, though, another voice intruded upon their quiet conversation, and Harry had to suppress a groan.It was Colin Creevy, a fourth year Gryffindor who never had been able to get over Harry's fame, and consequently viewed him as a mixture between a role model and a hero.

"What do you think happened, Harry?" Colin asked excitedly.

"Uh…about what?" Harry asked, thinking quickly.He would have been suspicious of any one else asking him, but Colin always seemed to ask Harry his opinion about everything.

"About what happened to Professor Snape, of course!" Colin replied.His voice lowered to a whisper."Do you think it was You-Know-Who?"

All the nearby Gryffindors seemed to be listening now; Colin's mention of You-Know-Who to Harry had caught their attention.Uncomfortable under their stares (mostly because he really did know the answer to that question and couldn't think about a plausible way to lie his way out of the situation), Harry shifted slightly.He hoped that they all just took his nerves for discomfort at the mention of Voldemort, but he still couldn't think of anything.

As usual, Hermione came to his rescue."How would Harry know?" she demanded."He lives with his Muggle relatives during the summer.You probably know more about You-Know-Who than he does, Colin."

"Oh."Colin's face fell, but it brightened nearly right away, and he turned back to the other Gryffindors."I was just wondering.Anyway, does anyone happen to know who the man with Professor Snape was?I swear he looks familiar, I just can't place a finger on where I've seen him before…"

Almost an hour passed before the Great Hall's doors opened again.There had been many sleepy yawns around the hall, especially from the first-years, whose nerves were finally winding down from a day's worth of excitement, but when the doors creaked open, everyone turned to look, feeling wide awake.Harry had been looking in the wrong direction at the time, but as he turned, he caught Professor Lupin's grin from the head table, and figured that everything had to be all right.

Professor Dumbledore came through the doors looking much more like his normal self; Harry could have sworn he saw a mischievous twinkle in the Headmaster's eyes.Hermione grabbed his arm."Look!"

Harry grinned.Sirius was with Dumbledore.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," the Headmaster began upon reaching the front of the Great Hall and standing in front of the head table."I apologize for keeping you up so late on your very first day back, but there are several announcements left to be made.First of all, I would like to inform all of you that Professor Snape is currently in the hospital wing under Madam Pomfrey's care, and she assures me that he will be fine."Something dark flashed in Dumbledore's eyes as he spoke, but it disappeared quickly, giving way to a very impish smile.

"I would also like to introduce you to your new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, Sirius Black."

The hall exploded, and Harry turned to Ron with wide eyes."Can you believe it?"

"No!He's got to be kidding," Ron gasped.

"I can't believe the Ministry of Magic would let him teach," Hermione added.

But Harry's intended response was lost in the roar of voices; behind him, he actually thought he heard several first years scream.Even the Gryffindor table was in uproar, except for those who knew better.Through the shouts he heard people commenting.

"…escaped."

"You-Know-Who's right-hand…"

"…got to be crazy…"

"…has to be someone else."

"Dementors…"

"Murdered thirteen people with one curse…"

Even after Professor Dumbledore raised his hand for silence, it took several minutes for the hall to quiet down.When it did, however, the silence was so deep that Harry was certain that the Headmaster would have been heard even if he'd spoken in a whisper.Glancing around, he noticed hundreds of fearful eyes looking at Sirius rather than Dumbledore, but his godfather's face was unreadable, except for a tiny twinkle of amusement in his eyes._I'm glad he thinks this is funny_, Harry thought nervously._Because everyone else here thinks he's a murderer and Voldemort's right-hand man!_

"I am sure most of you have heard of Sirius Black," Dumbledore continued gravely, "but what most of you do not know is this:

"Sirius Black is innocent."

A pin drop could have been heard in the hall.Everyone stared, but few believed Dumbledore's startling announcement.After letting his words sink in for a moment, the Headmaster explained.

"Although imprisoned in Azkaban for twelve years, Sirius was never given a trial.Had that been done, certain information would certainly have come to light.The first fact, amongst many, is that Peter Pettigrew is alive and has been working for Voldemort for sixteen years.He faked his own death and killed twelve others to pin the frame on his old friend, Sirius Black, who had tracked him down to avenge the deaths of Lily and James Potter, whom Pettigrew sold out to Voldemort."

Eyes swiveled to Harry, who swallowed, but kept his eyes on his godfather.He could feel the surprise in the air, but it seemed that all the students were afraid to speak.

"Upon recent confirmation of these facts, the Ministry of Magic has declared Sirius Black innocent of all wrongdoings," the Headmaster concluded, making Harry's eyes widen so far that he thought they were going to pop out of his head.Beside him, Hermione squealed in delight, and he heard Ron's soft exclamation of triumph, too."Sirius—Professor Black—is a former Auror who has ample experience in the field, and I believe you will find him uniquely suited to the task.

"Now, off to bed with you!"

Ten minutes later, Harry sat in the Gryffindor common room, surrounded by his classmates, who were all too wide awake to sleep.After the students had been dismissed, Harry had tried to remain behind and talk to Sirius, but Professor McGonagall had shooed him out of the Great Hall and refused to listen to his excuses.Now, though, he was being badgered endlessly by questions, especially by Colin, who was wondering what Harry thought of the "supposed innocence" of their newest professor.

"Oh, lay off, will you?" Ron suddenly demanded, cutting Creevy off angrily."If the Ministry says he's innocent, he's innocent!"

"But—" Colin began.

"Actually," Harry interjected mildly."I stayed with him for awhile this summer.Did you know he's my godfather?"

Colin shut up.And stared.

"But how did you know he was innocent?" Lavender Brown asked quietly."Everyone thought he was—"

"Really," Hermione cut her off, rolling her eyes."Some of us have known that for two and a half—Oh!Professor McGonagall!"

Everyone turned.Professor McGonagall, although the head of their House, rarely came into the Gryffindor common room, and when she did, it usually meant that someone was in trouble.Immediately, both Weasley twins piped up.

"We didn't do it!"

McGonagall sighed and turned to Harry."I would like a word with you, Mr. Potter."

Harry jumped to his feet, and followed the Deputy Headmistress into the hallway.A huge grin split his face when he saw Sirius, who turned to McGonagall."Thank you," he said.

"It's good to have you back, Sirius." She smiled and walked away, leaving Harry alone with his godfather.

They stood silently for a long moment, and Harry started to feel incredibly stupid, not sure what to do.He'd gotten to know Sirius so much better in the time they had spent together, but all of a sudden, it seemed as if there was a distance between them.Tentatively, he stepped forward, and then found himself enveloped in a hug when Sirius did the same.

"I'm sorry I worried you, Harry," Sirius said softly."Remus told me how you reacted."

Harry swallowed the lump of emotion that had decided to form in his throat."It's okay."

"No, it's not," his godfather replied, pulling Harry's chin up and looking him in the eye."Sometimes I'm impulsive and I do things without explaining.I wish there had been another way… I'm sorry."

"Sirius, it really is okay," Harry replied, smiling."You're back."

Sirius hugged him again."And I'm not going anywhere, Harry," he promised."You're not going to lose me."

Harry had to swallow again._This is what family is_, he thought to himself._I finally have real family._He hugged his godfather back, but knew if he didn't change the subject soon, he would start crying, and he wasn't about to start crying at school.That Rita Skeeter article had caused him enough problems when it hadn't been true; he could only imagine the mess he would get into if he really burst into tears where anyone could see him!Malfoy would never shut up about it.He pulled back, smiling.

"So, when were you going to tell me you were an Auror?" Harry demanded.

"It never came up," Sirius replied sheepishly.

"But that's so cool," Harry said, meaning every word.But then he gave his godfather a confused look."But you're nothing like Professor Moody."

"Mad-Eye?" Sirius laughed."Definitely not!I still have all my original body parts, thank you."Then he grew a little more serious."Not every Auror is like Mad-Eye, Harry.He's a bit…extreme."

"You're not that paranoid, are you?"Looking back on their week together, Harry remembered that Sirius had acted awfully calm in just about _any _situation, and had certainly known how to deal with Death Eaters!

"No," Sirius grinned again."All kinds of people become Aurors.Some are perfectly normal witches and wizards, and others find that their taste for…mischief serves them well in that field, like your father and I did."He must have seen the sudden surprise that shot through Harry, because he continued gently."Yes, James was one, too.We always tried to convince Remus, but he decided to go into research instead."

Harry smiled."I learn new things from you every day."

"That's good.I'm a professor now, you know.I should hope you learn _something_ from me."But the playful look in Sirius' eyes told Harry that this was going to be a very interesting year.__

"Do I have to call you Professor Black now?" he wondered.

"Only in class." Sirius laughed."That's going to take some getting used to."

"I think you'll do great."Harry covered up a yawn with the back of his hand.

"Thanks."His godfather put a hand on his shoulder."It's getting late, but before you go to bed, there's one thing I wanted to ask you."

"Sure."

"Now that my name is cleared, I'm definitely going to be buying a house.Would you like to stay with me?"

"Of course!Why wouldn't I?" Excitement flooded through Harry.Once, he'd been offered the chance to get away from the Dursleys, but a cruel trick of fate had robbed him of it.Now, though, there was nothing that could keep him from living with Sirius, and a world that had seemed ready to turn upside down only forty-eight hours before was suddenly very, very bright.

"I just had to ask." 

----------------------

**Author's Note:Again, I apologize to all those who tried to read the previous chapter and could not.The uploader was down, but it's back now, and I decided to update in honor of that fact.Thanks again reading, and of course, please review!Stay tuned for what happens when cats and dogs meet…and how Hogwarts changes as the war against Voldemort escalates. **


	11. Don't Pet the Dog It Bites

Death Before Dishonor

Chapter Ten: Don't Pet the Dog (It Bites) 

The seventh year Gryffindors hurried into the Defense Against the Arts classroom, led by Fred and George Weasley, both of whom were laughing so hard that they could barely walk.  Their classmates, too, seemed affected by the same malady, and most fell into their seats.  George, however, remained standing, pacing around the room thoughtfully. 

"Did you see that?" Lee Jordan finally managed to gasp. "Did you see the look on Filch's face?"

"That was amazing," George agreed.  "I can't decide which one I like more, the pink floor—"

"—Or the purple polka dots," Fred finished for him.

"You mean you didn't do that?" Angelina Johnson asked incredulously.

"Us?" Fred replied.

"We wish." George looked mournful.  "Oh, man—did you see that?  We've never been able to get into Filch's cleaning supplies—I think he got Snape to hex up the closet for him years ago—but whoever did that definitely managed to mess with his floor cleaner—"

"And it must have had a delayed reaction, because did you notice that Filch had just _finished_ cleaning the floor when it went all pink on him?" Fred concluded with a grin.

"But if you didn't do it, who did?" Alicia Spinnet demanded.  She and Angelina shot dirty looks at Fred, George, and Lee.  "You three are always getting the rest of us in trouble."

George grinned, and looked eagerly at his twin.  "I think we have competition."

"Oooh… A prank war.  How challenging." 

Lee's head came up.  "It had better not be one of the first years."

"Nah, it's the first day of class," Fred replied.  "Even we waited a week or so." 

"So who do you—AH!"  In his pacing, George had almost managed to walk right into the big black dog that had been lying on the floor, unseen to them all.  It barked irritably, making George jump away.  "Where'd you come from?"

The dog only wagged his tail and dropped his head back down onto its paws, lying peacefully on the floor.  Mystified, the class stared at the bear-sized creature as its eyes slid shut contentedly.  

"Do you think it belongs to Professor Black?" Angelina asked.

Fred and George exchanged glances.  "I dunno," Fred replied.  "He didn't have a dog when he was at our house."

"He was at your _house_?" Lee repeated.

"Yeah, he brought Harry."  Fred shrugged.  "Didn't say much.  Spent most of his time with Professor Lupin or talking to my dad."  

"Oh."  Lee stood and approached the humongous dog, who raised his head and studied him passively.  Curiously, the Gryffindor seventh year extended a hand to let the dog sniff it.  It's tail wagged happily, and emboldened, Lee reached out to scratch the dog between its ears.  "AHH!"

The dog suddenly leapt to its feet, snarling, and Lee stumbled back from it with fear-filled eyes.  The rest of the class anxiously scrambled to their feet, some moving forward to help Lee, and others clearly just wanting to get away.  Fred was the first to find his voice.  "What's wrong with that—"

The dog turned into Sirius Black.  "Welcome to Defense Against the Dark Arts.  Lesson Number One: Don't Pet the Dog, It Bites."

A flick of his wand displayed the words on the old fashioned chalkboard behind him.  Finally, their new professor smiled.  As he continued speaking, the words appeared magically on the board.  

"This lesson is otherwise known by the title 'This is How the Real World Works'."  After writing the second name of the lesson on the board, the enchanted chalk stopped.  "Now, if you'll please take your seats, put your books away—you'd better leave that Dungbomb in your bag, Mr. Weasley (and yes, I know which one you are, Fred)—and relax.

"Before we get started, let me make sure everyone is here."  Sirius didn't bother to move around behind his desk or to take out the class register; he'd memorized the role that morning, and he figured that if he didn't keep talking, he'd start laughing at the frazzled looks all the seventh years still had on their faces.  He pushed through the job quickly, filing away names and correlating them with things Remus had told him.  _Note to self: watch the Weasleys and Jordan_, he thought.  _McGonagall says they're the worst pranksters since the Marauders…as Fred said, "how challenging."_  He finished taking attendance and noticed that the whole class was still staring at him in silence._  Okay, time to shake things up a bit._

Without warning, Sirius sat on top of his desk with his legs hanging casually over the front edge—which was practically sacrilegious for a professor to do, of course.  Reaching back, he grabbed the thick role of parchment that had been sitting out of sight on his chair.  The seventh years stared at him like he'd grown a second head.  _I could do that,_ he thought mischievously.  _Might make them lighten up… Ah, hell, I'll just light something _else_ up instead._

"This is the official curriculum for seventh year Defense Against the Dark Arts."  He held it up, and then grinning, pointed his wand at the huge scroll.  "_Incendio_."

The class gasped, but Sirius let the parchment burn into ash, and then dropped its remnants on the floor.  "I always wanted to do that."

Finally, they laughed, and he let them carry on for a minute before continuing.  He definitely, Sirius noticed, had their undivided attention.  Not a bad start.

"This is a practical class.  In the real world, rules don't apply.  When a situation goes to hell, you can't look up countercurses in your textbook, and you don't have time to do everything the conventional way.  All you have time to do is react and trust your instincts.  Anything else will get you dead.

"A few years ago, Professor Dumbledore and I would be sacked by the Ministry for what I am going to teach you this year, but times have changed.  When you graduate this year, you will all be facing a world that doesn't even remotely resemble the one you left seven years ago.  It won't even be the same world you left this summer.  The Magical world is changing, and no matter what career path you take upon leaving Hogwarts, you will have to deal with those changes.

"Even innocents get killed in war," Sirius said quietly.  "And you need to learn to defend yourselves, no matter what you plan on doing later in life.  Not all of you will become Aurors, enter the Ministry, or even take an active role in the fight against Voldemort, but that doesn't mean you don't need certain skills to survive.  This year, I'm going to teach you a multitude of ways to defend yourself, and I'm going to show you how to take down your enemy while you do so.  I am_ not_ going to teach you any Dark Magic.  I don't know any, and you don't need it.  "

He let that sink in for a moment, and watched heads nod thoughtfully.  When he continued, Sirius made a conscious effort to lighten his voice.  "Now, if you will all proceed to forget the fact that your textbooks exist…"

In another classroom, Remus Lupin had just broken his own desk.

Actually, the enormous stack of books he'd allowed to drop onto the exact enter of the desk did the job for him, but all in all, it looked very impressive.  The crash that the table and books made as they hit the floor was also spectacular, and a cloud of dust rose from the pile, momentarily fogging the air in the musty classroom.  However, the fifth year Gryffindors in the room looked at him as if he'd gone insane, and his gentle smile threw them even further off balance.  To his right, Harry heard Ron mumble under his breath, "…gone mad."

"Every one of these books concentrates on a different period in the history of Magic.  They cover every important event in the history of the Magical world and contain information on every famous wizard from Agrippa to Worme.  By the time you graduate from Hogwarts, the Ministry of Magic expects you to know _all_ of _this_—" Professor Lupin gestured at the pile.  "And more."

Harry sat up straight in his chair.  Despite the amount of information that Professor Lupin was implying they had yet to learn, this was the most interesting History of Magic class they'd ever had.  _At least something has happened_, he thought.  _And I haven't fallen asleep yet.  That's a _big _improvement_.  _Even if I do have to study_.  At the moment, only Hermione was looking pleased with the idea of so much work, but then again, she'd probably read all those books already, anyway.  Everyone else looked rather sick.

A sudden flick of Professor Lupin's wand sent the entire heap, desk and all, flying into the far wall with a bang.  Everyone, including Harry, jumped.

"But the world has changed.

"Books and knowledge alone cannot prepare you for the war to come.  Only understanding can do that.  This term we will study what has happened and what _will _happen.  We will study the mistakes of others and learn not to repeat them.  We will study motivations and fears, and learn why the Magical world is as it stands today.  Above all, we will examine the impact that the past has on the present, and what the future may bring.

"Since the day Voldemort returned, everything we have done has been tainted by darkness.  Only by understanding the past can we prevent even darker days from coming."

Harry sat transfixed.  Professor Lupin's blue eyes were serious, yet they held a strength that most of the Gryffindors had not seen before; his voice was as steely as it had been the fateful night in the Shrieking Shack when Harry's entire world had changed.  This was Remus Lupin, he realized, as his parents had known him.  This was the man whom Albus Dumbledore trusted, werewolf or no, to teach children what they had to learn to survive in a rapidly darkening world.  Lupin's voice softened as he continued:

"So take out your notes.  Today you will begin to learn about dark times that everyone would rather forget…the first rise of Lord Voldemort."

Three days later, lunchtime in the Great Hall proved to be very interesting.  Harry had been sitting with Ron, and Hermione, peacefully eating a light meal before Potions (thankfully, with Professor McGonagall, since Snape was still in the Hospital Wing), when Fred and George ran in, shrieking with laughter.  "Oh, no," Hermione lamented.  "What did they do _this _time?"

The Weasley twins collapsed into chairs across from them.  "Can you believe it?" Fred gasped for air.

"No!" George howled.  "Oh, I wish I'd seen it!"

"What?" Ron demanded.

Fred continued as if he hadn't heard his younger brother.  "It was beautiful."

"Absolutely perfect."

"Unbelievable."

"_What'd you_ _do_?" Ron yelled.

"Us?  Dear brother, _we _didn't do a thing," George replied gleefully.  "That's the best part!"

Fred nodded.  "It all started when Professor McGonagall transformed into her Animagi form for her third year Ravenclaws—"

A shout came from outside the hall, and they all recognized the infuriated voice.  It was McGonagall.  

"Uh oh," Harry whispered half under his breath.

"You did something terrible, didn't you?" Hermione moaned, glaring at the twins.  They both stared at her indignantly, having already professed their innocence, and George opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by Professor McGonagall's shriek.

"_Sirius Black_!  You get back here right now!"

A massive black dog barreled into the Great Hall, skidding on the super clean floors as he scrambled through the doorway.  Right on the dog's heels was McGonagall, looking more furious than Harry had ever seen her.  Understandably, the dog fled, slipping underneath the Hufflepuff table as a horde of third year Ravenclaw students arrived on McGonagall's heels, laughing and pointing at the dog.  A chair upended as Sirius fled before the Deputy Headmistress' wrath, and Harry felt his eyes widening in astonishment.

"Oh, my!" Hermione gasped.

"Look at him go!" Ron pointed as Sirius, still a dog, slipped out of a side door.

Professor McGonagall stopped, seemingly realizing that she would never catch up with him.  That realization, though, seemed only to make her angrier; her face reddened as laughter echoed throughout the Great Hall; even the professors at the head table were snickering.  Professor Lupin, Harry noticed, looked ready to collapse in unconcealed glee.  He was holding his stomach as if it hurt and struggling to contain himself, but from what everyone in the hall could see, it wasn't working.

McGonagall's eyes tracked rapidly around the hall, flashing over students as she looked for someone to blame.  Desperately, Harry tried to look as mild-mannered and innocent as he could—after all, he hadn't had anything to do with _whatever _Sirius had done to her.  Fortunately, though, McGonagall passed right over the Gryffindor table without a second look.  She didn't even look at Fred or George Weasley, who were almost always involved in mayhem and mirth.  Unable to find a target for her rage, she started toward the door Sirius had used as an exit, but halfway there, she stopped cold.  Without warning, her head snapped around.

"Lupin!"

Professor Lupin looked as if he'd just swallowed a rat.  His head came up, and he gulped quickly, his expression a miserable failure of supposed innocence.  Lupin's voice came out slightly choked.  "Minerva?"

"How long has he been an Animagi?" she demanded, striding toward him.

Everyone in the hall stared as Lupin rose and backed away from the table, looking far more like a guilty student than a professor.  He managed to stop choking on his laughter long enough to speak very unconvincingly.  "Oh… I really can't recall."

"Don't you lie to me, Remus Lupin!" Professor McGonagall's voice took on the stern tone that it had when she was extremely unhappy with one of the Weasley twins' infamous pranks.  She pointed her wand menacingly at Lupin.  "You and Sirius Black have been nothing but trouble ever since you came to Hogwarts!  I know you were in on this!"

"Uh…actually, Professor, you know Sirius…" Lupin shrugged.  "No one can control him."

"Oh, really?" she demanded, still striding towards him and seemingly unaware that almost the entire school was watching her; those who hadn't been there in the beginning were now starting to form a _very _large crowd in the doorway; the news of Sirius' prank—Harry couldn't wait to ask his godfather what he had done—had clearly spread like wildfire.  "You seem to do a fine job of _controlling_ him when you want to!"

"Perhaps I'll be off now—"

"No, you don't, young man!  You stay right there!"  McGonagall was almost on him now.  "By the time I'm finished with—"

Something flew through the air.  Although Harry saw it out of the corner of his eye, he had only begun to wonder what it was when a Smelly-Smoke bomb went off right at Professor McGonagall's feet, enveloping her in smoke.  A split second later, a second one exploded right in front of Professor Lupin, blocking him from sight.  Harry heard McGonagall's angry voice from inside the sudden cloud, but by the time the smoke was cleared away (quickened by the Deputy Headmistress' spell) Lupin was gone.

Professor McGonagall stood absolutely still for a long moment.  She seemed befuddled by events, and for a split second, Harry began to wonder if she was all right.  Finally, she blinked, as if dazed, and turned towards the exit, snaking her head.  Passing the Gryffindor table, she sighed.

"What have we done?" she lamented quietly to herself.  "There are _two _of them."

Most of the students had the decency to wait until Professor McGonagall was gone before erupting into peals of laughter.  It took several minutes for Harry to recover long enough to ask the Weasley twins what had happened.

"Well," Fred replied, still gasping for air.  "We only heard about it, mind you—we didn't see it—" 

"But it must have been beautiful," George interjected.

"Anyway, when McGonagall transformed into a cat, a big black dog—Professor Black, of course—jumped out from under her desk and started chasing her.  It didn't last long, of course, because she became human again, and began chasing _him_, screaming bloody murder.  Someone must have mentioned who the dog was, because she definitely didn't know—I don't think anyone who hasn't had him for class yet knows, because no one wants to spoil _that _surprise—but that only made her madder."

"We caught up with the chase just he ran into the library, and asked the Ravenclaws what was going on," George picked up, "then we came here because we were sure she'd manage to corner him in there."

"But she obviously didn't, 'cause he made it in here," Fred finished, and they all laughed again until their sides hurt.

"Did you see the look on Professor Lupin's face?" Ron finally managed to say.  "He looked like the cat who'd swallowed the canary!"

"Do you think he knew?  I mean, it's not very good for discipline that one professor does that to another," Hermione said.

"You're such a spoilsport!" Ron growled.

"I think it's excellent," George said happily.  "It's nice to see that our teachers are human."

"And that at least one of them has a sense of humor," Fred agreed.

"You have to admit that it was funny, Hermione," Harry said with a smile.  He couldn't wait to ask Sirius for all the details.

She giggled.  "Oh, I didn't say it wasn't!  It's just—look!"

Professor Lupin's head had suddenly poked through the staff door to the Great Hall.  Cautiously, he looked to both the left and the right with an amazingly straight face.  Then a roguish grin split his face.  "Is she gone yet?"

Students nodded, staring at their History professor, who suddenly seemed years younger.  Lupin walked back into the hall and took one last look around, as if just to make sure for himself that Professor McGonagall was gone.  Finally, he glanced over his shoulder.  

"You can come out now, Sirius."

Nonchalantly, the black dog meandered into the Great Hall, looking insufferably pleased with itself.  Suddenly, though, the dog's head came up, and he sniffed the air eagerly.  Then, without any warning, the dog transformed into Professor Black.

"Food!" he grinned and immediately snagged a sandwich from the head table.  "I'm starving."

"I can't imagine why," Professor Lupin replied dryly, but Sirius only grinned around a mouthful of sandwich.  Lupin looked at him with something akin to exasperated affection, and began to continue, but was cut off as a great wave of cheering sounded through the hall.

Harry joined in, readily agreeing with Fred's shouted exclamation of "We haven't seen something so funny in ages!" and with everyone else's general glee.  He'd known Sirius could be funny, and even downright naughty at times, but he had a feeling that this prank was vintage "Padfoot," and that Professor McGonagall had just gotten a rude reminder of certain Gryffindor students she had taught more than twenty years before.  But Sirius quickly held up a hand for silence.

"What are you making such a racket for?" he demanded, his face suddenly stern.  "You're going to make so much noise that she comes back in here, and I'd have to do that all over again!"

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**Author's Note:  Thanks for all the wonderful reviews!  May I please have some more…??? ****J Believe me when I say this chapter isn't the end by a long shot—there is much more to come.  I apologize if this one slows the tempo a little bit, but I thought it important to describe how the upcoming war has affected Hogwarts.  However, look for more Voldemort in the future…and stay tuned for what happens when the cat strikes back, clashes between Sirius and Malfoy (and no, I won't tell you WHICH Malfoy yet), and a cameo by the Marauder's Map.  Please review!**


	12. Laughter as the Best Medicine

Death Before Dishonor

Chapter Eleven: Laughter as the Best Medicine 

Faint words escaped as Minerva McGonagall slid the staff room door open.  She'd hoped for a little peace and quiet before her weekly chess game with the Headmaster—the one thing she could always be sure of beating him at—but it seemed she would not get her wish.

"I can't believe you did that, Sirius," Remus Lupin was saying as she entered.  "I know you always joked around about how dogs _always_ chase cats, but I never thought you'd actually go through with it!"

"You should have known better," Black replied smugly.

Minerva shut the door, and both professors' heads snapped up at the sound.  Guilt and amusement warred for control of each face, but both seemed finally to settle on a mild form of embarrassment.  Sirius, she noticed, looked around the room quickly as if calculating avenues of escape, but Minerva was blocking the only door.  Finally, he turned his big blue eyes on her with what his friends had always called the puppy-dog look—_That description turned out to be much more accurate than I ever dreamed,_ she thought.  Minerva let him stew for a moment before speaking sternly.

"Don't give me that sad look, Mr. Black!  You ought to be ashamed of yourself, carrying on like that in front of the entire school.  What on earth were you thinking?" she demanded.

"Well, I'll admit that I wasn't," Sirius responded.

"Well, of course you weren't!" Minerva snapped.  "You're a professor now, for Merlin's sake!  You ought to learn to act like one, at least, even if you are still an overgrown adolescent prankster at heart!"

Sirius shrugged without even a hint of regret.  "It seemed like a fun idea at the time."

McGonagall stared at him.  She hadn't seen Sirius since before James and Lily had died, but he hadn't changed a bit!  He was still acting without even pausing to consider the consequences, and was still jumping headfirst into the duck pond without bothering to check the depth first.  He hadn't grown up _at all_.  And yelling at him certainly wasn't going to change that.  After all, it had certainly never worked before.  Sighing, she dropped into the armchair that faced the couch Lupin and Black were sprawled on.  "You're never going to grow up," she muttered in defeat.  "Whatever am I going to do with you?"

"You might try laughing, Minerva," came a voice from another armchair.  This one faced the fireplace, and had a high back that blocked all view of its occupant, but she knew that voice anywhere.

"Albus!" she snapped.  "You heard what he did!"

Dumbledore rose and came around the chair to face her, his eyes twinkling merrily.  "I did.  And I happen to find it very amusing," he replied.  Smiling, he strolled across the room and took a seat in the chair next to her.  Minerva shot him a cross glance as he spoke, but the Headmaster continued before she could speak. "What I am curious about, though, is what drove him to do it."  He turned.  "Sirius?"

Under her breath, the Transfiguration professor mumbled darkly, "Because he thought he could get away with it, that's why."

Sirius laughed.  "Well, the fact that you couldn't give me a detention _did _occur to me," he admitted.  "And maybe it did it to prove I still could."  At this, Lupin shot a quick look of concern in his friend's direction that Minerva did not understand, but Sirius continued.

"Mostly, though, I did it because of the atmosphere here at Hogwarts."  Suddenly, his voice was serious.  "Over the last four days, we've done an admirable job of convincing these kids that the world has changed.  They're starting to understand what we're preparing them for, and that's good because they need to be ready.

"But because they understand that, they've gotten very serious about studying—too serious.  They're forgetting to have fun, and _we _are forgetting some of the important parts of a Hogwarts education: friendship and growing up.  Laughter is good medicine.  They needed a break."

Minerva stared, but was not so shocked that she missed Dumbledore's pleased nod.  Lupin, too, smiled fondly at his friend.  "Well, that certainly wasn't what I expected," she said honestly.  "It seems I'll have to take back what I said, Sirius.  You _did_ grow up.  Time finally managed to change you."

"Twelve years in Azkaban will do that," he replied grimly, his eyes darkening and gaining a haunted quality that she hadn't seen before.  

"I'm so sorry," Minerva said quickly.  She felt terrible.  Of course twelve years in that awful place would change a man, even if he was innocent.  Pain flickered briefly in the younger man's eyes.  She started, "I didn't mean to remind you—"

With a wave of his hand, Sirius brushed her apology aside.  "It's all right," he replied.  "I don't have nearly as many nightmares now."

Next to him, Remus was wearing the same look of concern that he had minutes before, which made plenty of sense now.  Sirius had stayed with him before the start of the term, an if anyone would know about his memories or the way his experiences still hurt him, it was Remus.  Now, though, Sirius was nodding to his friend reassuringly.  His unspoken words were clear enough for even Minerva to understand—_I'm all right_, his nod said, and he lost some of the haunted look as he smiled.

"Besides," he said lightly.  "Although most of the students are willing to trust me, it doesn't hurt to reaffirm that image in their eyes.  After all, I doubt many cold-blooded murderers are going to go running around the castle as a dog, chased by Hogwarts' _incredibly_ threatening Transfiguration professor and fleeing from her wrath!"

They all laughed.  It was a hard thing to imagine.

"That's fine for you to say!" she replied with an answering grin.  "You weren't' the cat who was bowled over by a huge and hungry-looking dog!  I've never been so traumatized in my life!"

This time, it took even longer for the four professors to control their mirth.  Any student looking in on the scene (which, fortunately, none could do) would have thought them all mad.  Dumbledore had half-fallen out of his chair before he caught himself, Lupin was gasping for air, Black was trying to growl unconvincingly between bouts of hilarity, and McGonagall herself was almost faint from laughing so hard.  Finally, Remus managed to speak.

"Oh, I don't know," he said to Minerva.  "It might do wonders for your reputation!"

"I doubt that," she chuckled.  "All the students are _still _going on about the 'guts' that it takes to do that to your own former professor, and the girls have gone positively goo-goo eyed over how _handsome _you looked, Sirius.  After you returned to human form, I assume."

Black looked positively horrified, but Lupin looked delighted.  Before he could rib his friend, though, Minerva continued wickedly.  "And those same females, Remus, are going on about how _heroic_ you looked when I cornered you!" she declared.  "Between the two of you, you've given the entire female population of Hogwarts enough day dreams to last until they're my age!"

She thought Albus was going to choke on the sugar quill he'd just started eating.

Remus looked terrified.  "Oh, no…"

"What have I done?" Sirius whispered, dropping his face into his hands.  For a moment, Minerva was afraid that he was actually going to be sick.  

She let them stew for a moment more, and returned Dumbledore's grin with a sly smile.  Neither of the younger professors noticed; both were too preoccupied.  Every word was true, of course—walking through the corridors all afternoon, she'd heard was talk of Sirius' prank.  He'd certainly gotten everyone's attention, she figured, so he deserved whatever came of that.

"Speaking of things you've done," she continued briskly.  "What made you throw those two Smelly-Smoke bombs, anyway?  I wasn't _really _going to hurt Remus, you know, and now I'll never get the stink out of those robes!"

Sirius gave her a look that Minerva guessed was supposed to be chivalrous.  He threw an arm around Remus' shoulders, then grinned.  "I couldn't leave a friend in need."

"Is that was you call friendship?" she snickered.  "Well, then I suppose you two deserve one another.  You've certainly won the students over in record time, Sirius."  Minerva smiled sweetly.

"If you keep at it, you'll be the next Gilderoy Lockhart!"

One week later, the laughter had died down, but Sirius had quickly become one of everyone's favorite teachers.  The Slytherins, of course, complained incessantly, but even they had a hard time finding something to make a case over.  Malfoy initially tried to write Professor Black off as unprofessional and immature, but as soon as lessons got into full swing, that proved impossible.  Defense Against the Dark Arts became as engrossing as it had been in Professor Lupin's year, and even if it was less fun at times, it was always practical.  The students found out very quickly that Sirius Black pulled no punches; he told them exactly how things worked and the truth of what happened without ever telling a class that they "weren't old enough for that".  His frank lessons led to a few uncomfortable moments; students with more squeamish natures sometimes wished that they hadn't been told the truth, but no one had ever tried to tell them the world was fair.  Sirius Black was a good example of that.

The strangest part about their lessons, as Harry found it, was that fifth, sixth, and seventh year students were getting the exact same classes in Defense Against the Dark Arts.  When Hermione had asked why, Sirius had looked her in the eye and asked if she thought a Death Eater would stop to ask her age before attacking.  Hermione had been a bit embarrassed by that, but the point had been made.  The world was at war, and anyone could become a target.  It was only a matter of time.

"Hurry up, Ron!" Hermione hissed as they rushed down the hall, a hairsbreadth away from being late for their favorite class.

"I'm coming, already," Ron grumbled.  "Calm down.  It's not like Professor Black is going to give us detentions or anything."

 "You don't know that," she snapped.  "Just because he hasn't done it yet doesn't mean he won't, and I don't want to find out."

Harry rolled his eyes and held the door open for his friends.  As they hurried inside the classroom, he was grateful to notice that Sirius wasn't there yet; the students at Hogwarts had found that as the term went on, their newest professor was less and less likely to be early for class.   Sirius was never quite late, but Harry suspected that he liked to cut it close.  The thought of his godfather made him smile, but the expression froze on his face as he noticed the gaggle of students sitting on the right side of the classroom.  His fellow Gryffindor fifth years were on the left side, separated from the others by a row of desks and glaring suspiciously at the newcomers.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" Harry demanded as the blond boy glared back at him.

"I'm here for class, Potter," Draco Malfoy sneered.  "In case that's too obvious for you."

Hermione stepped forward.  "What isn't obvious is what you're doing here.  This is our class time, not yours." 

"Like we'd want to spend time with a bunch of _Gryffindors._"  Malfoy spat their house name out as if it was poisonous, nodding toward his fellow fifth year Slytherins.  "We don't have any more choice than you do.  They changed our class time."

"What for?" Hermione wondered.

"Like I'd know, Mudblood."  Malfoy rolled his eyes.  "I'm not the teacher's pet."

Harry's eyebrows shot up as Malfoy casually threw the insult at his friend.  Malfoy and his friends had gotten more obnoxious this term, but since Harry had been avoiding him with unusual skill all year long (aside from Potions, of course, but with McGonagall teaching, Malfoy hadn't been able to get away with anything at all), he hadn't had an opportunity to see _how _much worse Malfoy had gotten.  Furious, Harry opened his mouth to reply, but Ron beat him to it.  

"How dare you?" Ron snarled, turning bright red in anger.  "You think you're all important because you're _purebred_ and rich.  Well, I'll tell you that everyone else just thinks of you as _inbred_ and revolting."

Hermione had also turned red, but now her eyes widened in astonishment as she forgot her own anger and embarrassment.  Harry, too, stared at his friend, feeling a great surge of pride in Ron.  Ron had never hesitated to stand up to Malfoy before, but his usual first line of defense had been his fists, whereas now Ron was taking a different tactic—one that definitely annoyed Malfoy.

The Slytherin shot to his feet.  He snarled, "You just wish your family was like mine."

"Not for all the money in the world!" Ron retorted.

It might have gone further had Sirius not swept into the room at that moment, and neither Ron nor Malfoy was stupid enough to fight in front of a teacher.  All four of them sat down, and Harry quickly pulled out his notes.  Defense Against the Dark Arts was his favorite class, and he wasn't going to let Malfoy ruin that.  However, he did take a moment to exchange a sly grin with Ron; it wasn't every day that someone managed to insult _Malfoy's_ family.  Usually, it was the other way around, and Harry was glad that Ron had gotten back at the stuck-up Slytherin.

After taking attendance, Sirius got straight to the point that had been bugging them all.  "As I'm sure all of you have noticed," he began dryly, "your class has suddenly doubled in size.  While I apologize for any difficulties this may cause, I'm afraid that the change will be permanent, due the need to clear space in my schedule for a project Professor Lupin and I are working on.  However, I assure you that the class will continue as before."

Sirius paused for a moment, but certainly did not give the Slytherins any time to object before he continued.

"So far this term we have gone over basic defensive methods that work against a variety of dark creatures.  However, not all of your foes are going to fall into that category.  Some of them are going to be human."

A chill ran down Harry's spine.

"I won't lie to you," Sirius said softly.  "Nor will ever I fail to tell you the truth about how bad things are just because you are young.  The attacks are growing more frequent.  People are dying.  Many of you undoubtedly have family and friends who are in danger right now.  Despite that, you are safe at Hogwarts.  If you choose to do so, you can pretend that the attacks don't affect you at all.  And maybe they don't.  Maybe they never will.

"Today we're going to start a new lesson: Defense against Death Eaters.  I am going to teach you some of the basic tactics that Aurors use, and we're also going to cover the Unforgivable Curses in more depth than you did last year.  Most importantly, I'm going to teach you how to stay alive if you're ever faced by Death Eaters, which I sincerely hope will never happen.  But if it does, you will be prepared."

Harry felt a ripple of anxiety run through the room.  Many of them had _some _kind of experience with Voldemort's followers: Neville's parents had been taken out of his life because of Death Eater atrocities, and he, Ron, and Hermione had most recently encountered Voldemort's disciples at the Burrow that summer.  _Not to mention the fact that half the Slytherins probably have Death Eaters as _parents_, _Harry thought to himself, forcing the grimace off his face.  Perhaps that wasn't a fair estimation; after all, he only knew that Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle and Nott had parents on the Dark Side, and four wasn't _quite_ half of the Slytherin fifth years.  Just close.

But even having thought that, he could not believe his ears when Malfoy spoke.

"You make it sound like anyone who practices the Dark Arts is evil," the blonde haired boy said haughtily.  "But can you prove that?"

The entire class stared.  Harry blinked, staring at his long-time rival, trying to figure out if Malfoy had really dared to ask that question.  The arrogant Slytherin constantly challenged teachers that he did not respect (which was any of them except for Snape, of course) but he'd never dared do anything so confrontational.  Even Malfoy had never dared openly support Voldemort.  _Which he isn't_, Harry reminded himself.  _Quite._  But it would have taken a blind man to miss the underlying meaning of Malfoy's question.

Even Sirius seemed to be taken aback.  For a long moment, he simply stared at Malfoy, his face completely closed off and unreadable.  Finally, he regarded the question with a serious expression.  "Would you like to make a case for how they are _not_, Mr. Malfoy?"

"As you say all the time Professor, it's a war," Malfoy responded smoothly; unfortunately, Harry realized, the other boy was treading carefully.  "Surely one side will always vilify the other.  I was just wondering why we never hear the _entire _story.  Both sides, I mean."

"You mean the Death Eater side," Sirius responded, his voice flat.

Harry didn't miss the quick glance of triumph that Malfoy shared with his fellow Slytherins, and he doubted that Sirius did either.  However, he was surprised that their professor had let Malfoy's questions continue; although Sirius conducted himself in a very relaxed manner with his students, he never allowed things to get out of hand.  He didn't give out detentions because he didn't need to.  Sirius was just the kind of man who gained respect easily, and the easy power that he exuded meant that none of the students wanted to see what happened when he was crossed.  The fact that he hadn't stopped the Slytherin's questions clearly gave Malfoy a sense of victory, and he smiled silkily and continued.

 "Well, I was just thinking that not _everything_ the Death Eaters do is bad," Malfoy responded.  "And that they certainly have reasons to do so.  In the end, how are we to know who history will judge as evil?  And who are you to tell us which side is right and which is wrong?"

This time, Sirius responded every bit as evenly as he had before, but even though his voice did not change, his demeanor _did_.  There was nothing obvious about the change; it was something more felt than seen, but he suddenly seemed harder and more intense.  He suddenly seemed dangerous.

"You can believe what you want to about power and about how the end justifies the means, Mr. Malfoy.  I have heard all of those excuses before.  But I have seen it.  I've pulled bodies out of the wreckage, bodies of friends, of family, and of innocents.  I've seen the dead adults and the dead children, most of who would never understand why they died.  Perhaps you do not care about them.  Some people don't.

"To answer your question, no one can decide which side to take but you.  However, the lines between right and wrong are not something you can blur through wishful thinking or self-importance."

Malfoy jumped to his feet, red with anger.  "How _dare _you!"

"Sit down, Mr. Malfoy."  Sirius did not raise his voice.

"I will not! You can't just—"

"I can say what ever I please, young man, especially when it is the truth," Sirius continued in that same hard voice.  "Perhaps you will prove me wrong in the future.  If that day should come, I will apologize, but until then, I advise you not to ask questions to which you do not want to know the answers.  Sit down."

From that moment forward, the term began to fly by.  The story of Sirius having shot down Malfoy flew around the castle faster than the newest model of broomstick, the soon to be released Phoenix Racer.  Malfoy's first reaction was to try to bluff his way out of the embarrassment and blame the situation all on Professor Black, but that was made difficult by the Ministry's announcement of Sirius' innocence.  Harry didn't quite understand why the Ministry of Magic had delayed releasing it for so long, but he accepted Sirius' vague reply about the cause being only politics.  He was slightly surprised that the Ministry still denied the fact that Voldemort had returned, despite the fact that, as Sirius had said in class, the Death Eaters were becoming more and more active.  Also, since the Ministry could no longer blame the attacks on Sirius, the _Daily Prophet _had become maddeningly speculative, and Harry found himself laughing at some of the absurd theories the paper published.  In retrospect, he supposed that Cornelius Fudge had been representative of the magical world—he would rather believe anything, no matter how far-fetched, than accept the fact that Voldemort was alive.

At the moment, though, such global events were far from his mind.  He was concerned with something much closer to home.

"Can you believe that?" Hermione demanded angrily, for once feeling as overloaded as everyone else by homework.  "Four feet of parchment from Professor Snape, and we still have to reach that other potion before the next class!"

"I think he hates us," Ron lamented.

"I know he hates us," Hermione snapped.

"You'd think he would be in a better mood after finally getting out of the Hospital Wing," Ron groused, "but no!  Instead he's every bit as nasty as ever, if not worse."

Harry shrugged.  True, Professor Snape was worse than usual and potions class had been absolutely miserable, but some things just didn't change.  Part of him wondered if it would even seem like Hogwarts if Snape hadn't been his usual, ill-tempered self.  Besides, dealing with the Potions Master was a lot easier now since he knew that Snape didn't want to kill him.  He only hated him, and Harry could handle that.

"At least he was equally nasty with the Slytherins," he pointed out.  "If what Malfoy was grumbling about is right, anyway."

"Malfoy is always complaining."  Ron rolled his eyes.

"But not about Snape," Hermione said.  "Harry's right.  He's not putting up with anything funny from _them_, either, and that's different.  He always favors them, but did you see him in the hallway this morning, when Goyle ran into him?  Malfoy tried to blame it on Ginny, but Snape nearly gave both Malfoy and Goyle detentions—I think only Professor Lupin walking up stopped him, and he didn't even look at Ginny."

"That is weird," Ron agreed.

"A lot of things are changing around here," Harry said quietly as they headed up the stairs toward the Gryffindor common room  "Did you notice that they're strengthening the wards around the castle?  I heard Sirius and Snape talking about it earlier."

"They were actually talking to each other? she asked.

"Not very happily, I bet," Ron added.  "Snape looks at Sirius like he wants to kill him."

_Despite the fact that Sirius saved his life_, Harry thought to himself, but didn't say it.  After all, Sirius did not seem to mind Snape's feelings a bit; he'd smiled and said to Harry that he would have felt like a failure if Snape didn't hate him.  But they did seem to be working together all right, and Harry had to wonder just what Professor Dumbledore had threatened them with to keep it that way.  He only shrugged in reply as they reached the entrance to the common room.

"Shuntbumps," he said, and the three of them slipped through the portrait hole.  However, before the entrance could swing shut behind the trio, another pair of students came bowling into them.

"Hey!" Harry yelped, trying to twist out of the way when a body hit him from behind.  Unfortunately, his movement carried him straight into Hermione, who tripped over Crookshanks (somehow, that cat always managed to complicate matters) and fell to the floor.  Her legs promptly proceeded to become tangled in Harry's, toppling him as well.  He landed on top of her left arm, but over Hermione's surprised exclamation, he still heard Ron snap:

"Watch where you're going, will you—AH!"

The second student ran into Ron as he rushed through the hole before the entrance could shut.  Neither Ron nor his attacker fell; however, both stumbled and nearly lost their balance.  Suddenly, though, Harry's view of the scene was blocked as hands reached out and hauled him and Hermione to his feet.

"Sorry, Ron, Harry, Hermione," Fred Weasley said immediately.  "We didn't mean to run into you."

"Then why did you?" Hermione asked, staring at their flushed faces.  "It's not like you don't know the password.  Why couldn't you just wait?"

"Because we found it," George replied as if that explained everything.

"And we don't want him to know we got it."  Fred grinned.

"If he even knows what it is."

"It's too precious to remain in the wrong hands, after all—"

"Extremely valuable."

"_Some_ people just can't be trusted with it, that's all—"

"And we felt it our duty to rescue it," George finished.  "In honor of the greatest students Hogwarts has ever had."

"What are you talking about?" Ron demanded, just as Hermione gasped.

"You didn't!"

"Didn't what?" Fred asked innocently.

"You stole the Marauder's Map again, didn't you?" she asked reproachfully.

The twins grinned, but Harry frowned.  "But Professor Moody—or Crouch, anyway—took it from me last semester," he said.  "How did you get it?"

"Oh, easy," Fred replied promptly.  "In fact, we got the map the same way we got it from Filch years ago.  One of us managed to get inside Professor Black's office—"

"That was me," George replied happily.

Fred nodded graciously to his twin before continuing.  "While the other set off a distraction—a very beautiful one, I might add, consisting of a Dungbomb and a suit of armor that we enchanted to dance—and simply grabbed the map.  It was right in the top of one of the drawers.  I don't even think Professor Black knew it existed."

The trio exchanged looks.  Immediately, a grin blossomed on Ron's face, and Harry knew what his friend was thinking even as Hermione opened her mouth to correct Fred.

"Ow!" she snapped instead of speaking.  Ron had kicked her, hard, in the ankle.  Hermione glared at him, but Ron only smiled.

"No," he said with a huge smile.  "I don't reckon he knows _anything_ about it."

Hermione looked at him strangely, but Harry managed to catch her eye and nod.  Their years of friendship got the message across: for once, the joke was on Fred and George—neither of them knew that Sirius was Padfoot, so why tell them?  There was no use in ruining the inevitably hilarious moment that would come when Sirius discovered the missing map and brought his brand of prankstering to play on the Weasley twins.  It would be much more fun to play along for the time being.

Hermione sighed, but remained otherwise silent.  Fred and George, of course, were oblivious, too pleased with themselves to notice the byplay between the younger three Gryffindors.  They were standing side by side, now, staring at the map fondly, and for a moment, Harry wondered if they might not kiss the parchment.  It was hard not to jump up and down in anticipation, but Harry schooled himself into stillness as George sighed in delight.

"It is good to have you back," he said to the map.

"We missed you," Fred agreed.

"Well, with no further ado," George continued, "_I solemnly swear that I am up to no good._"

"Never truer—_what_?" Fred jumped and stared at the map.  Curious, the other three gathered around, and also gazed at the map in amazement.  When George had touched his wand to the parchment, no lines appeared.  Instead, only words emerged.  While they were the same large and curly style that all the Gryffindor mischief-makers had seen before, the words came out in red, rather than green, and were far different from what any of them had expected.

----------------------

**Author's Note:  Thanks again for all the reviews!  I'll keep begging for more, because you have no idea (or, okay, maybe some of you do) how much reviews motivate an author to write more.  I certainly wouldn't still be writing this if you weren't all being so wonderful about writing reviews, that's for sure.  Anyway, stick with me; I'll get serious again soon (no pun intended—or maybe there was…).  Stay tuned for details on how the war is effecting Hogwarts—and "what happens when you don't pay attention".  If I say more, it'll give the plot away.  Oh, but I can say that Voldemort is about to start playing dirty… Please review!!**


	13. Vigilance

**DEATH BEFORE DISHONOR**

**_Chapter Twelve: Vigilance_**

**_Messrs. Moony and Padfoot_**

**_Professors of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_**

**_are proud to present_**

**THE GATEKEEPER'S GUIDE**

**_In honor of Prongs._******

There was nothing else.  No lines, no castle, no passages, no little dots representing people, and no Marauder's Map.  The red words simply stared back at them, from the top of the page, glowing faintly and seemingly insufferably pleased with themselves. 

Harry blinked, staring at the words and wondering what exactly this piece of parchment (that had just happened to be in Sirius' drawer when the Weasley twins set off a distraction) could be.  Obviously, it couldn't be the Marauder's Map, but… Equally evident, though, was the fact that Fred and George still didn't understand what was going on.  And they had even less of a clue than Harry did, since neither of the twins knew who Messrs. Moony or Padfoot were—but even knowing that did not help Harry much.  So he stared as curiously as the others, waiting to see what would happen.

"What the hell?" George finally wondered, scowling.

"Wipe it and try again," Fred suggested.

"Right."  George shrugged.  "_Mischief Managed_."

But the words did not disappear.  Instead, after a short pause, another line of text slowly appeared.  This one was black.

**_"Professor Moony presents his compliments to the Weasley twins, and would like to politely inquire as to how they came into possession of this Guide."_**

They all stared.  Harry's mind raced forward as he assimilated the information offered—was it possible that there was _another_ map?  Or, if not a map, something else useful that his Sirius and Remus had dreamed up?  But if so, why only the two of them?  What about his father and Wormtail?  Suddenly, though, he had no time to wonder any more, because the map—guide—was continuing.

**"Professor Padfoot would like to ask if the Weasleys really thought we would be so stupid as to use the same passwords twice."**

From his left, Harry heard a choking noise as Ron tried to control himself.  For himself, Harry bit his lower lip, hard, trying not to burst out laughing and ruin the whole joke.  He could almost hear those words coming out of Sirius' mouth; it was hard to resist the urge to glance over his shoulder and see if his godfather was there.  Hermione was only watching with wide eyes, undoubtedly trying to figure out exactly how this second "guide" came to be and working out every necessary spell inside her head as an academic exercise.  Finally, Fred and George overcame their speechless surprise.

"You've got to be kidding me," Fred managed.

"It's something else!" George gasped. 

Exchanging an amused glance with Ron, Harry watched his friend roll his eyes and mouth _Took them long enough_.  He smiled his agreement, and then returned his attention to Ron's older brothers.  Despite their earlier and slightly dim comments, no one could ever call the Weasley twins stupid.  In fact, they were actually quite smart, especially where mischief and mysteries were concerned.

"There's bloody two of them!" Fred exalted.  His eyes widened with anticipation.  "I wonder what this one's for…maybe there are more passageways in the castle?  Or something on the grounds we've never even seen?"

"Wait a minute," George said thoughtfully.  "Why are they "Professor Moony and Professor Padfoot?  Did they actually _teach _here?"

"Not with McGonagall around."  Fred rolled his eyes.  "She'd never let someone so cool—" Fred cut off speaking as the guide continued.

**_"Professor Moony would like to suggest that the Weasleys return this Guide before they get into trouble."_******

 "Ack!  They even sound like professors!" The last comment was too much for George; after all, trouble had never been a problem for the Weasley twins.  "Ah, hell, now we're going to have to figure out the passwords for this one, too.  The Marauder's Map took us months!"

**"Professor Padfoot would like to add that the retribution for not returning the Guide will be astonishingly horrible."**

Fred rolled his eyes.  "Sure," he snorted.  "You're probably dead, anyway."

Something wasn't right.  Harry knew it.  Somehow, he got the idea that they really _weren't _meant to find the Gatekeeper's Guide (whatever it really proved to be).  Although it was something that he could see Sirius doing as a joke, something told him that this wasn't.  He started, "Uh, Fred, George—"

**_"Professor Moony would like to say (for the last time) that this is not a toy."_**

**"Professor Padfoot would merely like to remind the both of you that you were warned."**

"I really think you should put the guide back," Hermione said quickly.

Had anyone else suggested it, Fred and George might have listened.  But Hermione was the quintessential worrywart, and both twins only rolled their eyes in reply.  "This thing's really got a rotten sense of humor," George commented.

"They were much better when they were younger," Fred added.  "And besides, Professor Black doesn't even know we've—"

The portrait hole slid aside, leaving Remus Lupin silhouetted in the opening.

"Professor Lupin!" Hermione gasped.  She was the first to speak, but just barely—Harry, however, quickly looked over at Fred and George, and noticed that the Gatekeeper's Guide had mysteriously vanished.  No one had ever said they weren't good.

"Err…what are you doing here, Professor?" Ron asked.

But Remus' level eyes were on the Weasley twins.  "I believe that you two made a recent _acquisition_?" he asked passively.

"Acquisition?" Fred echoed.

"Of what?" asked George.

"Of something the two of you pulled out of my desk."  Sirius Black stepped out from behind Lupin, and together, the two of them entered the Gryffindor common room, something professors rarely did—even ones who were Gryffindors themselves.  The Fat Lady closed the portrait hole behind them, having apparently forgiven Sirius for his past behavior enough to let him in.  Fred and George looked at one another with confusion and a trace of guilt; Sirius' face was unreadable, but his eyes were not laughing in the way Harry would have expected them to if this were all a joke.  Again, it occurred to him that Fred and George weren't meant to find the Guide.

"Out of your desk?" Fred repeated innocently, and if Harry hadn't known him so well, he might have believed it.

"When you thought I wasn't looking," Sirius replied somberly.  "You were looking for the Marauder's Map, I suspect, but found something else."

"You know about the Map?" George wondered.

"Of course I do," Sirius replied, and a smile fleeted across his face when he recognized George's half-hearted effort to change the subject.  "And while I will admit that was a very unique distraction—especially the dancing suit of armor—it wasn't very effective."

"Why not?" Fred looked indignant; it was obvious whose plan the distraction had been to begin with.  Although he seemed to momentarily forget that he was talking to a professor, Harry knew that Sirius would not mind.

And he also knew that the Weasley twins were in for a nasty surprise—but even the inherent pleasure of realizing that did not take away his curiosity.  What _was _the 'Gatekeeper's Guide'?  What did it do?  And why had Sirius and Remus made it?  Not knowing the answers to all those questions left Harry impatient for this conversation to be over, and he could tell from the look on Hermione's face that she was wondering about the same things.  Ron, on the other hand, looked positively gleeful over his brothers' coming discomfort, and didn't seem worried about anything.

"Kids these days," Sirius sighed, shaking his head at the twins and catching Lupin's eye.  The other professor nodded gravely.

"Indeed."

"No respect."

"No imagination," Remus added mournfully, and it occurred to Harry that the two of them sounded almost like Fred and George—but with so many more years of practice.

"Regardless," Sirius continued, holding out his hand.  "I am afraid I am going to have to ask for the Guide back."

Fred and George exchanged a glance; Harry could see that they were weighing the odds of succeeding in the innocent act.  Finally, the twins shrugged, and George handed the Guide over.  "Do you know how to work it, Professor?" he asked.

Sirius snorted, and seemed to be trying hard not to choke on his rising laughter.  Watching his godfather struggle to keep a straight face made Harry grin; when Remus reached out and stole the map out of Sirius' hand, the sudden indignant look that Sirius wore made the situation only funnier.   However, their history professor scowled as he looked at the Guide.

"Tried the old passwords on it, did you?" he asked.

George suddenly seemed wary, and Harry couldn't blame him, really.  Had he not known what he did, he'd have felt suspicious too.  "What old passwords?"

"The ones from the Marauder's Map, of course," Sirius replied nonchalantly, stepping sideways to glance over Remus' shoulder.  "Oh, bloody hell.  You had to try and wipe it, didn't you?"

"Well, yes."  Fred shrugged.

"This is going to take time."  Remus scowled again.

"True," Sirius replied.  "But at least—Well, _that _was a rather rude remark."

For a moment, all five Gryffindors looked at their Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor as if he'd gone mad, but it only took them a moment to realize that the Guide must have spit something nasty out at Sirius.  Unable to help himself, Harry giggled; it seemed that the Guide either didn't know its makers, or it just plain didn't care.  Next to him, Ron and Hermione were grinning as well, and Sirius shot them a dirty look that was only mostly playful before returning his attention to the parchment in Lupin's hands.

"Pot calling the kettle black," the other professor mumbled half under his breath.  His eyebrows rose, though, as more words evidently appeared on the page.

"Play nicely, Moony; your alter-ego isn't exactly being polite, either."

"At least I didn't just tell myself to bug off," Remus retorted.

"I never claimed tact."  Sirius pulled his wand from his robes with a slight smile.  "Shall we?"

"Let's."

Both professors' wands touched the very center of the parchment, and they spoke together.  "_This is what happens when you don't pay attention._"

Harry did not have a good view of the Guide from where he was, but it seemed to him as if a giant rainbow of color had just started to swirl around on the page like an inverted tornado.  Lupin sighed.

"_Pimples purged_."

The churning colors intensified.  The parchment glowed slightly, now, illuminating the two professors' features as they both stared at the page, waiting for some signal known only to them.  Obviously, though, this was an eventuality they had planned for, because as Sirius spoke, the Guide went blank. "_Sardines_."

Without another word, Remus rolled the guide up, and glancing at Sirius, he arched one eyebrow.  The Dark Arts professor nodded and turned back to Harry and his friends.  "Sit down."

Curious, the Gryffindors did so.  Fred and George, Harry noticed, were exchanging interested glances and could barely seem to contain themselves.  Finally, the dam of their control broke when both professors had made themselves comfortable on a couch facing the students.

"How do you know about the Marauders Map?" Fred asked breathlessly.

"And what is _that_?" George continued.

"Is it a—"

Lupin held up a hand to stop Fred's next question.  "We will explain," he said levelly.  "But first, I want your promise—the _both _of you—that you will not go looking for the Marauder's Map or the Gatekeeper's Guide again."

The twins' expressions fell in matching disappointment.  They looked at one another for a moment, then back at Sirius and Remus' unwavering expressions, and nodded.  "We promise."

"Very well."  Reaching out, Sirius accepted the Guide from Remus and held it up.  "This is the bastard child of the Marauder's Map, a second generation, if you will.  Rather than map the Hogwarts castle and grounds, though, the Gatekeeper's Guide is a model of Hogsmeade."

They all gaped.   

"However, unlike the Marauder's Map, the Guide was not created with mischief in mind, although it certainly would serve that end as well," Sirius explained.  "The Gatekeeper's Guide is one of the many layers of defenses that we have been working on since the beginning of the term.  Since Apparition is possible in Hogsmeade, we created the Guide in order to monitor who enters and leaves the village."

"Isn't that illegal?" Hermione asked.

Professor Lupin shrugged.  "Probably.  That is not as important, though, as what this guide allows us to know."

"It lets you know if there are Death Eaters in Hogsmeade," Harry said quietly.  "Or…anyone else."  He didn't want to think about the other possibilities, now that Voldemort had a body and could move under his own power…

"Yes, it does," Sirius agreed.  "And like the Marauder's Map, the Gatekeeper's Guide has been integrated into the castle's defenses, so I would appreciate it if the five of you keep quiet about it.  At the moment, you are the only students who know about _either _map, and we would like to keep it that way."

They all nodded, but George was grinning. "So, how does it work?"

"Perhaps someday we'll show you."  Sirius' eyes were shinning, even though Remus shook his head in mock exasperation.

"You at least have to tell us how you figured it out," Fred pleaded.

"Honestly!" Hermione rolled her eyes before either professor could reply.  "Haven't _you _figured it out yet?  Of course they know how it works!  They made it!"

"You _made _it?" both Weasleys gasped.

Harry couldn't help it.  He burst out laughing.  The stupid surprise on the twins' faces was unbelievable—how could they miss all the clues?  Was it really so hard to believe that professors might do that?  Quickly, though, he answered his own question.  _Yes_, he knew.  _Besides, it's hard to see _any _of our professors as having once been our age.  I have to remember that I see Sirius and Remus differently…they're my parents' best friends.  Ron and Hermione understand, too, but Fred and George didn't have a reason to know._  For one moment, Harry was surprised at his own mature outlook on the situation, but then he only laughed again.  _It's still funny_.

"Of course we made it."  Finally, Professor Lupin grinned.

"You're Moony and Padfoot?" Fred asked.

"At your service," Sirius replied lightly.

"Wow."  George's voice was reverent—but then again, the makers of the Marauder's Map were heroes to Fred and George Weasley…heroes who were now their professors.

"Amazing."

"I bet you got in _loads_ of trouble."

The two professors exchanged amused glances.  Lupin replied dryly, "You have no idea."

Smirking slightly, Sirius stood.  "While I hate to cut this conversation short, _we _have work to do, and unless I'm mistaken, the four of you—excluding Hermione, of course—still have homework to do.  So if you will excuse us, I believe it's time to grade some papers.  _Your_ papers."

They all groaned, but the Gryffindors said polite farewells as the two professors headed out the portrait hole.  As the door began to slide shut, though, Harry jumped to his feet.  A sudden thought had occurred to him, and it wasn't something he liked to consider.  He bolted through the opening.  "Can I ask you a question, Sirius?"

"Sure, Harry."

He took a deep breath as both of his father's best friends turned to face him.  "Do you really think that Voldemort will come here?"

"No," Remus responded immediately. 

"Yes," Sirius said at the same time.

The two remaining Marauders looked at one another.  Lupin frowned, asking.  "Do you really think he's that foolish, Sirius?" 

"No," Harry's godfather replied grimly.  "I just think he's that powerful."

Fear gripped Harry's insides.  "But Hogwarts is supposed to be safe," he said quietly.  "I mean, isn't Professor Dumbledore the only wizard Voldemort has ever feared?"

"I'm not saying Hogwarts isn't safe, Harry," Sirius said softly, putting a hand on Harry's shoulder as he turned to face him.  "In fact, as this war goes on, Hogwarts may very well become the _safest_ place in the Magical world.  And that, in the end, is what will make Voldemort come here.  He'll have to, if he's going to win."

"Do you think he will win?"

 "I won't lie to you.  It's possible."  Sirius squeezed his shoulder.  "But I believe, just like the Headmaster does, that this is a battle worth fighting, win or lose.  And I believe that we _can _win, Harry.  It won't be easy, but we can."

"We have to," he said quietly, trying to overcome the lump in his throat.

"Yes, we do," his godfather agreed.  "Are you all right, Harry?"

Harry glanced up at Sirius, noticing the look of gentle concern on his face.  There were times that he still found it odd, having _family_, but in others, in times like this, he was glad for it.  Sirius understood; his godfather knew that there wasn't a yes or no answer to that question—things weren't nearly that black and white.  The world was darkening, but some parts were still varying shades of gray.  "I don't know," he answered slowly.  "I just feel…strange.  Like something is going to happen.  For the last month, ever since school started, it's seemed so quiet.  I mean, I know bad things are happening in the world, but here at Hogwarts, it seems so far away."

"You're afraid it won't stay like that, though, aren't you?"

"Yeah."  Harry shivered.  "I think Voldemort wants me."

Abruptly, Sirius' face closed off.  "Let's go talk, Harry."

Nodding, Harry headed through the corridors at Sirius' side.  Although they walked in silence, he felt comforted by his godfather's presence; the last month had shown Harry what it meant to have family.  Even though their time together had been less than he would have liked, Harry and Sirius had still been able to find moments to spend together, moments to come closer and closer.  Having spent a lifetime feeling alone, there were times when Harry almost wasn't sure what to do with the newfound relationship, but all the same, he reveled in it.  Especially in moments like this, when he was feeling unsure and (although he hated to admit it, even to himself) afraid.  

They ended up in Sirius' chambers, a place Harry knew himself to be the only student ever to visit.  For obvious reasons, Hogwarts students did not ever end up in their teachers' rooms, but then again, Harry wasn't exactly a normal student, and nor was Sirius a normal professor.  Sirius was the closest thing he'd ever had to a father.

"You're worried, Harry."  Sirius spoke the words as he settled onto the couch and gestured for Harry to sit next to him.  As he did so, Harry nodded, knowing that his godfather's statement was not a question, but feeling that an answer was necessary all the same.  Still, though, he did not know how to put his fears into words, or how to explain the sudden feeling he had that Voldemort was coming for him.  Again, Sirius laid a hand on his shoulder.

"You're scared?" he asked gently.

"Yes," Harry whispered.  He didn't want to be, but it was true.

"You have every right to be afraid," his godfather said softly.  "You've shouldered very heavy burdens at such a young age…what you are, Harry, would have destroyed many other people.  And knowing that Voldemort is hunting you would break most wizards."

"You think he still is, then?"

"He has to," Sirius replied frankly.  "To prove to his followers that he's every bit as powerful as he once was, he has to kill you.  You're the only one who has ever defeated him."

"I was just a baby," Harry objected.

"That doesn't matter to him."

"So you think he's going to come here because of me?" It wasn't a question that Harry wanted to ask, but he had to.  He couldn't bear the thought of putting Hogwarts, his friends, and his classmates in danger.  None of them deserved to die simply because Voldemort wanted _him_.

"No.  I think he's coming here because the other person he has to beat is Albus Dumbledore," his godfather replied.  "If all the world goes dark, Harry, Hogwarts will be the last place to fall.  Even now, the resistance against the Dark Lord is centered _here_.  Dumbledore, and therefore Hogwarts, is the heart of the Order of the Phoenix, and to win, Voldemort has to break that heart.  He's coming, but not only because of you.  Don't blame yourself.  You didn't make Hogwarts his target."

"Is it?"

"It will be," Sirius replied certainly.  "But not yet."

"When?" Harry wondered, knowing that his godfather was privy to the inner workings of the Order of the Phoenix and therefore knew what was going on in the fight against the Dark side.

"No one knows for sure," Sirius admitted.  "All we can do is guess—and prepare.  That's the other reason that I wanted to talk to you."

"What can I do?" Harry asked quickly.  Anything was better than hiding.  He knew he was only fifteen, but he wanted to act, wanted to fight.  Perhaps it was merely his status as the Boy Who Lived, but Harry felt he had a responsibility to the Wizarding World.  He felt that he had to do _something_, yet no one had ever let him.

Sirius must have seen his anticipation, because he smiled very gently.  "I'm afraid it's nothing exciting," he said.  "What we need you to do, though, is to be _careful_.  I know you'll hate to hear this, but don't go sneaking around at night.  Don't leave the grounds, even with Ron and Hermione.  And mention to the Weasleys that all the passages are blocked."

Harry's heart fell.  "Does that mean I can't go to Hogsmeade?" he asked.

"There's a reason why we made that guide, you know," Sirius said lightly.  "When your classmates go into the village next weekend, you may go as well.  Just be careful, all right?"

"I will," Harry promised.

"I know you will," his godfather replied.  "And I'm sorry if I sound like an old woman when I keep telling you to be careful, but it's my job to worry."

Harry smiled.  "I don't mind."

And he didn't.  Strangers didn't worry—but family did.  Family always did.

----------------------

**Author's Note:  Can I thank you all enough for all the reviews?? Thanks for being so wonderful about it, and please continue to do so.  I'm terribly sorry that I left you all hanging with the last chapter… I hadn't originally intended to end it there, but you know how stories just kind of take control of the authors, rather than the other way around from time to time… And I sincerely hope this part doesn't disappoint.  It was hard to get right.  Anyhoo---stick around, and stay tuned for the plot to take a darker turn…you can count on this being the last bit of carefree humor for that happens for a bit, because Voldemort is on the rise, and yes, he's playing to win.  Please review! **


	14. Evil Rising

**DEATH BEFORE DISHONOR**

Chapter Thirteen: Evil Rising 

Mail interrupted breakfast a few mornings later as owls of all kinds swooped into the Great Hall.  While that itself was not an unusual event, the students' reactions were—a shocked buzz ran through the hall as, to Harry's right, Hermione let out a shocked gasp.

"What is it?" Ron asked.

"Oh my god…"

"Hermione?" Harry looked worriedly at his friend; she was abnormally pale, and he could have sworn her hands were shaking as she held her freshly delivered copy of the _Daily Prophet_.  "Are you okay?"

She ignored him.  "I can't believe it…"

Glancing wildly around the hall, Harry searched futilely for any sign of what could be affecting Hermione so badly.  There was nothing out of the ordinary, no monsters creeping out from under the tables—but all of a sudden, he noticed that every student who had received a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ was reacting with equal shock.  And all of them had suddenly gone very quiet.  

"Hermione?" Ron repeated with concern.

"It's impossible…"

"What's impossible?" Ron demanded.

Wordlessly, she passed the paper over to Harry, who held it so that both he and Ron could read the front page—Hermione hadn't gotten any further than that.  When he read the big, black words on the top of the page, Harry's eyes nearly popped out of his head.  He couldn't believe it.

**BEAUXBATONS DESTROYED**

Late last night, a tragedy was confirmed.  Led by a former headmaster,

a group of concerned witches and wizards located the ruins of Beauxbatons

Academy of Magic.  "After having received no communication from the

school for the past three days, we knew something was wrong," says Jean-

Paul Bourbon, retired Headmaster, "but we had no idea it would be like this."

Upon arrival at the (as of yet undisclosed) site, Bourbon and the others

discovered that the manor had become a burnt out shell.  Bodies of students

and teachers alike have been found in the wreckage, most of which are too

mangled to properly identify at this time.   However, the remains of Olympe

Maxime, the Beauxbatons Headmistress, were identified just outside the 

Academy's gates, where she apparently fell, attempting to defend her 

students. All of the bodies in her vicinity are thought to belong to professors.

Little remains of a once proud institute of magical learning, now, and no 

survivors have been found.  As of yet, no one has claimed responsibility for 

this brutal attack and there was no evidence left behind.  The only clue was 

the appearance of the Dark Mark, the sign of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-

Named, floating in the sky above the ruins.  

"The defenses of Beauxbatons were unbreakable," Bourbon replied 

mournfully when asked.  "The amount of power it would take to 

destroy this place is unfathomable.  I can only think of one Dark Wizard 

in history who is capable of such a thing."

Although attacks by Death Eaters have been increasing in past months, the 

Wizarding world is still struggling to find out the impetus behind these 

gruesome acts.  After the Ministry of Magic's recent announcement 

that Sirius Black, once thought to be the heir apparent to He-Who-Must-

Not-Be-Named, was in fact not ever working for the Dark Lord, 

everyone is left wondering what evil might be lurking in the shadows.  

Is there a new Dark Wizard out to pick up where He-Who-Must-Not-

Be-Named left off, or are these attacks simply carried out by the Dark 

Lord's old followers?  Worse than all these possibilities, though, is the 

possibility that the darkest rumors may be true—has the Dark Lord 

indeed returned?

A cold chill ran down Harry's spine.  It was impossible—Beauxbatons destroyed?  Gone?  With wide eyes, he turned to face Ron and Hermione and saw his worry and fear echoed on their faces.  If Voldemort had destroyed Beauxbatons, was even Hogwarts safe?

"This can't be true," Ron finally whispered.  "It just can't be."

Hermione's face was grim.  "No one would lie about something like that, Ron."

"But all those people…" the red-haired boy whispered shakily.  "Is even You-Know-How that powerful?"

"I think he just set out to prove that he is," Harry said flatly, remembering his conversation with Sirius from the day before.  "Don't you see?  It's meant to be a message.  He's showing people that nothing can stand against him."

"What about Hogwarts?" Ron gulped.

"I don't know," Harry replied.  What had Sirius said?  He'd said that Hogwarts would be the last place to fall—but that Voldemort would have to take out Hogwarts, and therefore Dumbledore, to win.  "I don't think that he's strong enough to come here yet."

"What do you mean, Harry?" Hermione asked.

Taking a deep breath, he told them about his conversation with Sirius.  Harry hadn't wanted to share that with his friends before—not because he didn't trust them, but because he didn't want to show his fears, even to Ron and Hermione, when Sirius had told him that Voldemort wouldn't come yet—but this had changed everything.  The attack on Beauxbatons _had _to be a message.  And it proved that Voldemort was every bit as strong as he once had been, despite the fact that the Ministry was still denying the fact that he had come back.  After he'd finished, Hermione nodded knowingly.

"Remember what everyone says about Dumbledore?" she asked.  "They say he's the only wizard who You-Know-Who has ever feared.  It makes sense that You-Know-Who has to take him out, but wants to leave him for last—he wants to wait until Dumbledore doesn't have allies to back him up, and he can take him alone."

Ron gulped again.  "But that still means he'll come here eventually."

"He has to," Harry said softly, remembering the other things that Sirius had said.  "He can't win if he doesn't."

Whatever reply his friends might have made was cut off by Dumbledore's entrance into the Great Hall.  He was accompanied by a group of grim looking professors, including McGonagall, Snape, Flitwick, and Sprout—the Heads of all the Hogwarts houses, Harry immediately noticed.  The Headmaster stopped, looking around the hall, which was suddenly very quite since his arrival.  He spoke gravely.

"I am sure all of you have learned about what has happened," he said.  "And indeed, the story is true—Beauxbatons Academy of Magic has been destroyed by Lord Voldemort and his followers."

A quiet ripple ran through the hall, this one more from Dumbledore's use of the Dark Lord's name than from the news.  However, Harry noticed students looking at one another apprehensively, wondering if they would be next.  Before any screwed up the courage to ask, though, the Headmaster continued.

"I have been in communication with the Ministry of Magic concerning these events.  From what we know, Voldemort was able to infiltrate the staff of Beauxbatons, therefore gaining access to information that allowed him to defeat the layers of wards defending the school.  For what it is worth, I can guarantee you that will not happen at Hogwarts.  Everyone here is committed to your safety."  Out of the corner of his eye, Harry noticed many eyes—especially those at the Slytherin table—flicker towards Professor Snape.  _Is that because they think he's still a Death Eater, or because they know he's not_? Harry wondered.

"Over the next few days, many of you will undoubtedly receive owls from your families, asking you to return home," Dumbledore went on.  "Some of your parents will feel that you are no longer safe at Hogwarts, which is understandable.  But before any of you consider leaving, I ask you to remember this—_nowhere is safe_.  The world is at war, and you are either Voldemort's ally or his enemy.  He sees no middle ground.  The Dark Lord will not spare innocents.  He never has.

"Accordingly, classes will continue for those of you who wish to remain, which I encourage all of you to do.  Now, more than ever, you will have need of the skills you will learn here.  I cannot guarantee your safety, but I can promise you this:  for many years we have known of the Dark Lord's existence, and for many years we have prepared.  This moment was not unforeseen, and we, your teachers, do not stand alone.

"Years ago, when the actions of government could not stop Lord Voldemort, a group of witches and wizards united to oppose him.  They became the Order of the Phoenix.  The Order has always been dedicated to ensuring Voldemort's downfall; when the rest of the Magical world relaxed, we remembered.  And we still do.  Do not interpret Beauxbaton's destruction as a sign of the Dark Side's victory.  There is still a war to be fought, and there are many willing to fight it.  The Order of the Phoenix will fight to the last, and Hogwarts' defenses will not be breached by betrayal.  This school will not be broken by Darkness.  When all other things fall, Hogwarts will remain."

"You realize what this means, don't you?"

As Remus asked the quiet question, Dumbledore slumped wearily in his chair, looking older than Sirius had ever imagined him being.  The headmaster was silent for a long moment as he sat by the fire, his eyes closed and seeing things that the others could only dream of.  Sirius had long wondered if the old man might be a Seer, or if he at least might somehow _know_ things that others did not, but he'd never asked, and now was not the time to do so.  Now was the time to plan, and to pray.

"I realize that it means many things, Remus," Dumbledore finally responded, opening his eyes.  "This means that our most likely source of allies has been destroyed.  This means that Voldemort has pushed forward harder and faster than we had expected him to.  This means that the war has truly begun now."  Dumbledore sighed.  "And it means that Cornelius Fudge is a bigger fool than I took him to be."

"Coward, more like," Snape hissed.

"Coward, if you will," the headmaster agreed.  "Regardless of what his personal attributes may be, his policies are a mess."

"He's going to make us lose the war before it has even begun, Albus," McGonagall interjected.

Around the staff room, heads nodded in agreement.  This was a small gathering, made up of only those members of the Order of the Phoenix who were on hand—and who were also in the Order's inner circle.  Each teacher was in that circle for a specific reason: Minerva McGonagall, for her status as the woman who would take over Hogwarts should Dumbledore fall; Remus Lupin, for his years of research and uncanny ability to poke holes in any strategy; Severus Snape, for his firsthand experience as a Death Eater and knowledge of the Dark Arts; and he, Sirius Black, for his years spent as an Auror and status as Harry's godfather.  The five of them, counting Dumbledore, were the only ones who knew of the entire inner workings of the Order of the Phoenix; even the rest of the professors were left out of planning sessions like this.  It wasn't that Dumbledore did not trust the others completely—it was only that those in the room stood to lose far too much to even consider betrayal as an option.

"Minerva is right," Remus said.  "Fudge is still trying to fool everyone, including himself.  For Merlin's sake, he issued a statement saying that the Ministry is _certain _Voldemort is dead!  And other nations believe him because he refuses to acknowledge the solid proof you have offered—the man's a fool, and he is going to get a lot of people killed."

"He already has," Sirius said quietly, wishing he could be surprised at the vehemence in his best friend's voice.  Remus Lupin was generally a quiet and even sad man, but he could hate with passion.  And there was nothing Remus despised more than those who harmed innocents.

"Something's got to be done about him," Minerva agreed acidly.

"Of course it does," Dumbledore agreed.  "But what?  And if we do remove him, Minerva, who is there to put in his place?  Who can we trust?"  The headmaster's piercing blue eyes swept around the room, taking them each in turn.  "I cannot leave this school knowing that it is a target.  I will not endanger the students in that way."

McGonagall looked slightly abashed.  "No one would ask you to, Albus." 

"No?" Dumbledore arched one elegant eyebrow.  "Perhaps you would not, Minerva, but the Ministry would.  And if I come out against Fudge, they _will_.  For who else is there to choose?  Lucius Malfoy, and play into Voldemort's hands?  Arthur Weasley, whom far too many dismiss as inept and dim?  Ludo Bagman, who _is_ inept and dim?  The most acceptable choice for many would be Amos Diggory, but he has taken a leave of absence since Cedric's death, and I know he would not accept the job now.  We must propose a solution before we create a problem, Minerva.  And I have no legal right to come out against the Minster of Magic."

"Legality is beginning to have less and less to do with this situation," Snape growled.

"So what do you propose to do?" Remus asked, making Sirius smile inwardly.  Leave it to Remus to get straight to the point and stop everyone else from wondering what might have been.  He had always been the sensible and logical one.

"We must work with the Ministry," Dumbledore said for the hundredth time.  _Then again, we've had this argument a hundred times, too_, Sirius reflected.  _Too bad that hasn't changed anything._  

"They won't listen," Severus said quietly, and Sirius had to agree.  For almost five months, Dumbledore had been trying to convince the Ministry—namely Fudge—that Voldemort was alive.  The problem, however, wasn't proving the truth; it was forcing the Ministry to admit it to the public.  Fudge claimed that it would cause a panic.  The Order knew it would save lives.

"No, they won't," the headmaster admitted.  "But we will try.  One more time."

"And then what?" Remus asked slowly, as if dreading the answer.  This was the first time Dumbledore had said that it would end, that they would stop trying—but then what?

The weariness and age suddenly left Dumbledore's face, and his eyes hardened.  "Then we act," he said evenly.  "In the past, I have told Fudge I will not act against him, so long as he continues to oppose Voldemort, but his refusal to act has become a liability.  If he will not act, _I_ will.  Unless he announces the truth to the Wizarding world, I will publicly oppose him."

"I thought you just said you didn't want to," Minerva said with some exasperation. 

"I do not.  But I will," Dumbledore replied.  "You are all right in that we cannot afford to wait…but we cannot truly afford to divide the Ministry over this, either.  However, it has come time to make a choice of the lesser of two evils."

There was a long moment of silence as all the professors considered the consequences of what they were about to do.  Unless Fudge decided, against all odds, to submit to Dumbledore's ultimatum (which the man had entirely too much pride to do, Sirius knew), Albus Dumbledore was about to rock the Wizarding world to its very core.  Had any other in their group come out against Fudge, the world might well laugh at them and continue on in the same old manner, but Dumbledore was different.  Dumbledore was famous.  He was widely considered one of the most powerful wizards to have ever lived.  He had taken out Grindelwald and survived.   He had been places and done things that no one else could dream of.

And Voldemort feared him.

Sirius knew that Dumbledore's actions might very well cause the crisis the Order of the Phoenix was fighting to prevent.  While they all knew that proof of Voldemort's rebirth would cause panic in the Magical world, they also knew that knowledge would encourage people to protect themselves better.  Had the Ministry made the announcement when Voldemort was still weak and without his legions of followers, many deaths—such as those in the destruction of Beauxbatons, might have been avoided.  However, when the public found out that Fudge had outright _lied _to them, many would come to distrust the Ministry.  Most of them would follow Dumbledore—but some would see Fudge's cowardice as proof that the Dark Lord couldn't be defeated.  Fear would reign.  And some would go to Voldemort.

"We've got to strike back," Sirius said before he'd even realized that he'd spoken aloud.  "Before people can panic, we've got to show them that Voldemort can be beaten."

"And how do you propose we do that?" Snape asked dryly.  "Walk up to the Dark Lord and challenge him to a duel?  Is there a special sonnet you'd like on your tombstone, Black? "

"Severus!" Dumbledore stared at the Potions master before Sirius could reply, and shot a warning glance in Sirius' direction to forestall that, too.

"Forgive me."  Snape shrugged, but at least he meant it.  "But my point still stands.  You _can't_ strike at Voldemort.  He won't give you the opportunity—yes, you can hunt Death Eaters, and yes, that would probably help matters.  If the public can see a few Death Eaters taken, it will help to keep panic from setting in, but _that _doesn't solve the real problem.  The real problem is Voldemort, and no one has yet to come up with a realistic idea for taking him out."

"Just because we have not found a way, Severus, does not mean one will not find us," Dumbledore replied cryptically.  "Do not give up hope."

Snape's response came in a quick jerk of his head, but his dark eyes were glittering.  "Not while I still breathe."

"Very well," the headmaster continued, bringing the conversation back on course.  "Tomorrow, Sirius, I want you to go to the Ministry for me."

"What? Me?"  Dumbledore had to be joking.  The Ministry might have declared Sirius innocent (after a great deal of arm-twisting on his behalf by the Hogwarts' headmaster), but he was definitely still persona non-grata where the Ministry of Magic, and especially Fudge, was concerned. 

"Yes, you," the old man replied patiently, smiling slightly.  

"Uh…in case you've forgotten, Fudge is not exactly my biggest fan."  Sirius tried to make his point diplomatically, but it was hard to be fair to a man who wanted to give him the Dementor's Kiss without a trial.  "And I'm not exactly his, either."

Snape snorted at the understatement.  Remus just sighed.  Minerva actually had the grace to look worried, but Sirius wasn't sure if she was concerned over his well being, or the havoc he might leave behind if sent to the Ministry of Magic alone.  Dumbledore, though, met his gaze steadily, and it took all the effort Sirius could muster to remember that he was a grown man (not to mention a professor) and not some wayward student caught red-handed in a prank.

"I am more concerned with others' perceptions than Fudge's, Sirius," the headmaster replied.  "You are still well-known in the Ministry, and by sending you, everyone there will realize that I am serious.  No pun intended, of course."

It was _very _hard not to roll his eyes, but to his left, Snape groaned out loud.  There were certain times when Albus Dumbledore could be maddeningly exasperating.  "Right," Sirius replied.  "So I'm well-known as a mass murderer.  What good will that do us?"

"You know that is not what I mean."  Again, Dumbledore gave him the patient headmaster-awaiting wayward student look.  "Had things turned out a little differently, Sirius, you would have become as well known as Alastor Moody.  You were certainly as effective, if not more, in the three years you spent in the field as an Auror.  That is why so many were willing to believe you were Voldemort's right hand man—no one can argue with your skills or your powers."

"So you want me to present him with your ultimatum."

"I would prefer a gentler term—say, 'request'?" Dumbledore's eyes twinkled briefly.  "But yes, give him the option, and tell him that there is no changing my mind." 

"Why me?" Sirius had to ask.  He knew there were other reasons.  With Dumbledore, there always were.

"First of all, I need to send someone I can trust," the headmaster replied.  "Which means it needs to be someone in this room.  I, obviously, cannot afford to leave right now.  Minerva and Severus need to remain at Hogwarts because they are the heads of their houses, and in the next few days, I expect to be bombarded by owls about the school's security.  And, of course, there is the fact that the moment Severus sets foot outside of the grounds, he will be the target of every Death Eater wanting to get onto Voldemort's good side.

"Aside from that, I do not send Remus because I would much rather him teaching your class than having to watch you suffer through teaching the history of Magic."  Dumbledore smiled for a moment, and then grew serious once more.  "Also, Sirius, you need to get out."

"Get out?" Sirius repeated.  "I've done nothing but see the world for the past few years, Professor."

"Ah, but people need to _see _you, Sirius," the old man replied.  "They need to see what you truly are, not the horrible monster the Ministry made you out to be.  The Magical world needs to be aware of who you are, because you will play a pivotal role in the war to come.  Not many can do what you can."

_It always comes down to power_, Sirius thought to himself.  _And people need to see that it's not all on the other side._  He sighed quietly, knowing that Dumbledore was right, and that the one argument he really wanted to use wouldn't work.  Harry was safe at Hogwarts.  His leaving for a day or two would not change that, thankfully, and he supposed that there were times when images counted for everything, and that his did need a lot of fixing.  One of the things he'd learned as an Auror (which seemed at times to be part of a previous life) was that people needed to _believe_.  They needed to see that Voldemort wasn't the only big kid on the block, and even Dumbledore did not have enough of an image to offset the fear alone.  There had to be others who publicly opposed the Dark Lord, others for people to see.  And unfortunately, the career path he'd picked so long ago fulfilled those requirements perfectly.  Finally, he snarled his agreement.

"I hate this game."

----------------------

**Author's Note:   Well, here we go…the game has begun.  Thanks for all the reviews, and I'd be eternally grateful if you'd send a few more my way…(please?).  Stay tuned for more on the Dark Mark, and of course, "When Sirius Met Fudge…Take Two."  Thanks for reading and please review!**


	15. Anticipation

**DEATH BEFORE DISHONOR**

Chapter Fourteen: Anticipation 

For most of his life, Sirius Black had operated on one of two default settings around strangers: joking or dangerous.  With friends, there were a slew of options and personality traits lying in between, but most strangers inevitably saw him as a carefree and often tactless practical joker.  The few who had seen the dangerous aspects of his character were either dead or were still in Azkaban.  They hadn't hated him any less when he'd become their companion in the Wizarding world's version of hell, but that had never bothered him—after all, he'd put them there.  They were welcome to hate him.  But aside from imprisoned and dead Death Eaters, most people just saw the clown.

At the moment, though, when he swept into the Ministry's headquarters, he was anything but a clown.  Sirius' strides were long and certain as he approached the secretary's desk; the witch looked up without recognition (those Azkaban photographs just did not do him justice at all), and raised one perky eyebrow, smiling politely.  But he spoke before she could ask what he wanted.

"Sirius Black to see the Minister of Magic."

The effect of his words was incredible.  The witch behind the desk reared back in shock and looked as if she was having an inner debate over the virtues of screaming her lungs out.  Just in time, she must have remembered that the Ministry had declared his innocence; however, that certainly did not keep her brown eyes from widening to at least twice their normal size.  She stared at him for a long moment, apparently reconciling the well-built and clean-cut man with the scrawny and scruffy one whose image all the papers had carried for over a year.  Sirius noticed the surprise on her face as she evaluated the changes in his appearance, but, all the same, the fear did not leave her eyes.  He supposed that was because the cold stare he offered her was exactly what she might have expected out of a mass murderer—or of a Death Eater.  _Or from a rather irritated ex-Auror_, he thought to himself, knowing that wasn't something she was currently imagining.  _But why bother with the truth?_

 "I…I'm afraid the Minister is busy right now," she finally managed.

Sirius arched one eyebrow and let her squirm for a long moment.  Many people never understood how he could ever become so much the opposite of his normal and cheerful self, but Sirius Black was a man of extremes.  That was why he'd made such a good Auror.  Playtime and business were worlds apart—although none of his professors would ever have believed that he knew the difference.

"And how long will he be busy for?" Sirius asked emotionlessly, then quirked a cool smile.  "Or is that simply your polite way of saying that he will not see me?"

"I am afraid he will be busy all day," the witch said quietly, completely unsure of how to deal with him.

"I am afraid that will be unacceptable," he said evenly, and watched shock play all over her face as the secretarial witch expected a threat.  "I come bringing an urgent message from Hogwarts.  I need to speak to the Minister directly."

_That ought to do it, _Sirius thought, watching alarm light up her face.  In the wake of the attack—_destruction_—of Beauxbatons, there was no doubt that everyone feared Hogwarts would be next.  Durmstrang might have made an easier target, but the other remaining European magical school taught the Dark Arts, which meant Voldemort stood a good chance of making allies there.  Hogwarts, on the other hand, was the realm of Albus Dumbledore, the one man anyDark Wizard feared, and that meant that Hogwarts would be attacked, sooner or later.   Judging from the look on the witch's face, Sirius knew he'd guessed right and that the Ministry feared that Hogwarts would be next—and he did nothing to dissuade her of the notion that the moment had come.  Perhaps it was unkind, but Sirius didn't much feel like playing fair at the moment.

Come to think of it, he didn't much feel like _playing_ at anything at the moment.

"I will tell him you are here," she replied quickly.  In the space of three seconds, the witch had gone from unresponsive to sickeningly helpful, and Sirius watched impassively as she shot out of her seat and scurried into Fudge's office.  Thirty seconds could not have passed before she came out again, leaving the door open behind her.  "The Minister will see you now, Mr. Black."

"Thank you."

He nodded to her, but put the witch's presence out of his mind the moment he entered Fudge's office.  There were only around a thousand things Sirius would have preferred to be doing at the time, and talking to Cornelius Fudge had dropped off his list of things to do with his life around about the time Fudge had arrived to arrest him with Barty Crouch.  The two of them, ambitious and arrogant bastards that they were, had decided that a trial would be too good for Voldemort's second in command—and had doomed him to hell because of that.  Of the two, Sirius hated Crouch more by a slim margin, mostly because he'd counted on the other as a professional colleague and had assumed that Crouch would have at least listened to him and given him a chance to explain.  Fudge, however, he still dismissed as a political monster, interested only in anything that kept him secure in the fiefdom he'd built in the Ministry of Magic.

Regardless, though, he was there, and Dumbledore was counting on him.  He had a job to do.  Failure, Sirius had learned a long time ago, was not a feeling he enjoyed, nor was it a fault he accepted from himself, so fail he would not.  _Business time._  He tried to keep the hatred out of his voice.  "Minister."

Surprisingly enough, Fudge actually rose to greet Sirius, coming around from behind his great oak desk.  "Mr. Black.  You come from Hogwarts?"

"I do."  As Sirius met the older man's gaze, he could not help but notice that Fudge was actually shaking slightly.  Fear filled the Minister of Magic's eyes, and Sirius knew that the other expected the worst.  That, however, was not the only thing he noticed.  He jerked his head toward the still open door and the wide-eyed secretary filling the doorway.  "You might want to have that door shut.  I suspect you will not want others overhearing what I have to tell you."

A glare from the Minister closed the door and sent the witch fleeing back to her desk, and Fudge gulped, lowering himself slowly back into the chair behind his desk as if his legs would no longer support him.  Fudge's voice came out in a scratchy whisper.

"Hogwarts is gone, isn't it?"

"No," Sirius replied levelly, helping himself to the seat Fudge hadn't bothered to offer him.  "I assure you that Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is perfectly intact and will remain that way for some time to come.  It will take more power than Voldemort can currently muster to breach the defenses."

For one moment, he thought Fudge was going to faint.  "But you said that you brought an urgent message from—"

"And so I do.  It is not, however, my fault that your secretary chose to mislead you."  _Or, at least not that I'll admit to, anyway._  Shaking Fudge up was probably the best way to accomplish his mission, assuming that it could be accomplished at all, which meant that Sirius did not give a damn about protecting the Minister's tender feelings from harm.  "I have come on behalf of the Headmaster, who regrets that he cannot leave the school at this time.  More important matters demand his attention."

"Like what?"  Fudge's face reddened at the implied insult.

"The safety of Hogwarts.  The war against Voldemort."  Sirius let his gaze burn into the Minister's.  "And the future of our world."

"Now see here, Black—"

"No."  While Fudge's voice had risen to a near shout, Sirius kept his level and cool.  But his flat tone abruptly quieted the politician, who stared at the Hogwarts professor in disbelief and with an ever-reddening face that revealed his anger all too well.  Before the other could respond, though, Sirius plowed forward in the same emotionless voice, refusing to get in a shouting match with Fudge.

"It is you who must see, Minister.  I am here on behalf of Albus Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix.  I come, for the last time, to request that you reconsider your policies and tell the truth behind the attacks.  You can no longer deny that the world is at war.  You cannot hide the threat that Voldemort has become.  To do so is criminal, and endangers the very people you should be protecting."  Sirius met the older man's furious gaze without blinking.  "It is time to tell the truth.  The public deserves to know."

"You have no right to walk in here and tell me how to run my own Ministry!" Fudge snapped, too angered at Sirius' blunt words to catch all the nuances behind them.

"Perhaps I do not," he agreed coldly.  "But I come here with a warning, and a statement of fact: should you continue to deny the truth, Dumbledore will announce to the Wizarding public that Voldemort is alive and call for support against the Dark Lord."

Under any other circumstances, the look on Fudge's face might have been amusing; at the moment, though, it was merely sad.  The Minister did look as if he was going to explode (and, failing that, have an instant stroke), but Sirius was beyond caring.  There had been no gentle way to approach the truth, so he'd slapped Fudge in the face with it.  Perhaps that was not the most diplomatic approach, but if the headmaster had wanted diplomacy, he'd have sent Remus.  _And the smile on his face told me that he wanted anything but_ _good manners from me_, Sirius thought._  All in all, I think I've behaved myself very well._****

"He would not dare," Fudge finally choked.

"It's not a question of daring," Sirius responded.  "It is a question of doing what has to be done.  Will you announce the truth and lead the fight against Voldemort, or must another do it for you?"

"Dumbledore would never break with the Ministry," the politician replied quickly, trying to convince himself more than Sirius.  "We have worked too closely for too many years…"

"For the past five months, _Minister_, you have done everything but work with him," Sirius half-snarled, unable to believe that the man's self-delusions were actually so strong.  Oh, he'd known, but seeing it in person was something else entirely.  "For five months, Dumbledore has fought a war with no help from you or the Ministry—instead, you persist in lying to the very people whom Voldemort will hunt!  You have done _nothing_ to stop the Dark Lord, and the time for lies has ended.  The Order of the Phoenix cannot fight this war alone.  Our battles can no longer be conducted in the shadows.  We must unite, or Voldemort will take us apart one by one.  

"But to do that, the Magical world has to know the truth you have denied it.  Make the announcement, or Dumbledore will."

 Fudge stared at him.  Sirius looked back, having delivered the ultimatum and caring to say no more.  He already felt contaminated enough just by sitting in the same room with the man.  An extremely uncomfortable silence filled the office for several minutes, but Sirius remained perfectly still.  However uncontrolled he could act, Sirius Black was actually a very disciplined individual, and he knew that his motionless stare unnerved Fudge a great deal.  Accordingly, he faced the Minister, waiting for the other to reply, even though he knew how disappointing that answer would be.  All of them had known—but they'd had to try.  If they hadn't tried to work through the Ministry one last time, the Order of the Phoenix would have proven itself to be no better than Cornelius Fudge.  Finally, the diminutive Minister of Magic spoke.

"I cannot believe that Albus Dumbledore would make such ill-conceived decisions, Mr. Black," Fudge said with a semblance of control.  "Accordingly, I can only interpret that you are here without the Headmaster's permission and are seeking to serve your own reprehensible ends.  I shall now ask you to leave my office before something…regrettable happens."

As Fudge rose, Sirius stared at him with curiosity.  That certainly wasn't what he had expected…_And hang it all, did he just _threaten _me?_  Almost unable to believe ears, the professor-turned-messenger asked calmly, "I beg your pardon?"

"You are not welcome here, Mr. Black," Fudge began.  "You may take your lies—"

The room shuddered, and suddenly everything spun out of control.

 "Well, what do you think?"

Remus took his time before answering.  "It's obviously not an accident."

"Tell me something I don't know, Lupin," the other professor snapped impatiently, earning himself a dark look from the History of Magic teacher.

"You asked for my help, Severus."  Remus Lupin struggled to keep his voice level; he could understand Snape's irritation and the worry that the Potions Master was trying not to show.  Snape had sacrificed a great deal in the fight against Voldemort, but was, in Remus' opinion, still struggling with how to deal with his newfound freedom.  Remus suspected that Snape had been a spy for so long, had spent so many years lying to both himself and to others and hiding his true personality, that even _Snape_ wasn't sure how to present himself.  So, even though the attitude could be hard to stomach at times, Remus tried to understand when Snape resorted to sarcasm to hide his concern.

"I know," Snape sighed, then suddenly shot to his feet, pacing around Remus' office like a caged animal.  His right hand, Remus noticed, clutched convulsively at his left forearm, but he doubted that Snape realized that.  Abruptly, the Potions master stopped, forcing himself to be still with obvious effort.  "I apologize."

"No apology is necessary," Remus replied softly, slightly surprised by the other man's sincerity.  "I've been researching everything I can find since you mentioned the problem, but I haven't found much.  It seems that the Dark Mark is unique to Voldemort.  Our information on Dark Wizards is sketchy, at best, but I haven't found anything that even remotely resembles the Mark.  No one has used one before, not even Grindelwald, who seems to have influenced many of Voldemort's other actions.  Needless to say, then, I haven't any idea why it is acting like this.  Then again, I am not an expert in this field, either."

Snape snorted.  "Unfortunately," he replied dryly, "all the _experts_ on the Dark Mark are not individuals whose presence I care to be in at the moment, thank you."

"I can't blame you for that."  Remus smiled slightly.  "Actually, though, I was thinking of you.  You've obviously got suspicions, Severus, or you wouldn't have asked me to see what I could find out.  What do you think?"

For a moment, the Potions master stared thoughtfully at the wall, but Remus watched with interest as Snape's eyes were drawn unwittingly downwards.  Only then, it seemed, did Snape realize that he'd been grasping his left forearm, and he yanked his right hand away when he did.  The grimace on his face was hard to miss, and the frustration and anger in his eyes made Remus pity Snape, something he had never thought he would do.  However, he knew that Snape did not want pity; in fact, the other man hated to ask for help—his life had been the product of loneliness and suspicion, neither of which made for easy trust.  Remus supposed he should have been flattered, then, by the fact that Snape had turned to him at all.  He knew it wasn't easy.

"I think," Severus said slowly, "that this is a message."  He was still staring at his arm.  "But it has never done this before.  It is hard to explain the different ways in which the Mark can burn—the commands are intuitive, really.  You can't describe what they feel like; you just know what they mean.  But it's never been like this."

"What was it like after Voldemort knew you'd betrayed him?"

"At first it was hell," Snape replied honestly.  "The Mark always burns painfully in the Dark Lord's presence, though, if he is displeased with you."  There was a slight hesitation, then, as if Snape was reliving moments that he would rather forget, and Remus regretted having reminded him of the hell he must have been through in Voldemort's hands.  Having seen Snape upon his return, Remus knew that he'd narrowly escaped with his life—only sheer stubbornness had kept him alive long enough to reach Hogwarts.  Finally, the former Death Eater continued.  "Then everything stopped."

"What do you mean?" Remus hated to ask, but he knew he had to.

"There was nothing—it felt at once as if a cancerous growth had been removed from my soul and like I was missing an integral part of myself.  It was a strange sense of freedom, but unusual, something I hadn't felt in a long time…but the Mark didn't fade.  I don't think it ever will."

Resignation filled Snape's voice, and Remus stared at him as he spoke, taken aback by the other's openness.  This was a side of Severus Snape that he'd never seen before, never even guessed had existed—but he supposed that it must have always been there, because the intestinal fortitude that had driven Snape to betray Voldemort and follow Albus Dumbledore had to be accompanied by a very special kind of courage.  For the first time, Remus understood why Dumbledore had always trusted Snape: the man on the inside was far different from the image shown to the world.  That was a gift that Dumbledore seemed to have; his ability to see inside a man's soul was unparalleled, and the headmaster was rarely wrong.  And in Snape's case, he hadn't been mistaken at all. 

"But it started burning again this morning."

Remus frowned.  "And you can't figure out why."

"No."  The Potions master shook his head.  "This isn't a calling.  I'm the last person he wants in his presence right now, unless it's to kill me, and he knows I won't answer.  But it's not like Voldemort to simply do this out of spite.  He's not that petty—or perhaps petty is the wrong word.  Rather, I would think that as a traitor I am beneath his notice now, until he decides I must die."

The lack of emotion in Snape's voice was nearly appalling, and Remus wondered how he could face a gruesome death so readily—except, wasn't that what waited for each of member of the Order of the Phoenix, should they lose the war?  Like Snape, Remus did not fear death, and although he did not precisely court it, either, he knew that death could come.  Snape's acceptance of death was what horrified him, though, even though he realized that it should not have.  _He's been a double agent for years now_, Remus reminded himself.  _He's been living for half of his life with the fact that Voldemort _will _kill him.  _In truth, Snape was probably surprised that he had lasted so long.

"I think it's burning for some other reason."

"Can he force you to him with it?" Remus wondered suddenly.

Snape shook his head.  "If I was anywhere but Hogwarts, perhaps.  Doing that is like Apparating someone else—technically impossible, even with the Dark Mark burned into my arm.  I suppose, though, if he had enough power—more than even he possesses himself, so he'd have to be drawing on someone or something else, as well—he could do it.  Even against my will." 

Remus shivered.  That wasn't a nice thought.  "So is it a warning?" he speculated.  "Is your Mark acting as Harry's scar does, now that you have been severed from Voldemort?"

"I'll never be free of him, if that's what you mean," Severus corrected him darkly.  Then he shook his head.  "But I don't think it's a warning.  The burn feels more like anticipation…like something is coming."

Glass shattered.  Power crackled in the air.  The floor buckled and shook under him, even as Sirius instinctively dove out of his chair.  Dust filled his lungs, and for the first time in many years, Sirius actually _felt_ pain.  He felt death.

Distantly, he heard Fudge scream, but Sirius did not have time for the Minister.  He felt like he was experiencing his own private earthquake; the world shuddered and seemed to tip on its axis.  Suddenly, his perception of up and down became wrong, and what had previously been to his right became downwards—Sirius crashed into the far wall with a thud, and saw Fudge's desk sliding to meet him through the murky air inside the office.  Somewhere, seeming from very far away, he heard more screaming from other voices.  Too late, he tried to twist out of the path of the incoming furniture, but Sirius realized it was going to hit and knew that once it did, he'd pass out and it would be over.

Then the world tilted again, sending him back the other way.  Throwing out a desperate hand to break his fall, Sirius bounced off the same chair he'd occupied only seconds before.  He tucked his head to his chest and managed to avoid all but a glancing blow to the shoulder, from which there wasn't even time for the pain to register.  His awareness was sharpening, defining itself as he struggled to figure out what was happening, but the ex-Auror did not have time to dissect the situation.  Foolishly, he figured that there would be plenty of chances for that later; he had to concentrate on the moment.  Rolling away from the downed furniture, Sirius started to get his feet under himself but found nothing to stand on as the floor collapsed out from underneath him.

_Falling_.  The sensation was like flying, but less invigorating, and the landing promised to be a lot less fun.  He was falling.  _This is going to be bad_—he hit.  _Crunch._  Sirius did not know if the sound came from his bones breaking or from the panel wood flooring that had been in Fudge's office, but didn't really care to find out, either.  Something hard and heavy landed on him.  _Pain._  Blackness crept in, but he instinctively knew that waking up would be far worse than staying conscious.  Years of training and hardship kicked in.  The mass on top of him was unyielding, but he had no idea if it would hide his presence.  In truth, he did not know if he _needed_ to hide, but instinct and training screamed for him to act before someone else did it for him.  _Move_.

With a grunt, Sirius threw the flooring, ceiling tiles, and chair remnants (along with god only knew what else) off of his body and stood.  He blinked, glancing around and trying to get his bearings through the dust cloud that had settled over him.  Finally, a vague light worked its way through the haze, and he traced it back to the small window in a wall to his right.  Good.  That meant they were still above ground, and he remembered that Fudge's office had been on the fourth floor of the spacious Ministry of Magic headquarters—_death._

His head snapped around as he felt it.  The sensation came from close by, perhaps a hundred feet away: towards the building's main entrance.  It was a crackling of magic, a small twinge of darkness that Aurors were trained to search for—but few every truly felt it.  Most just did not have the appropriate sensitivity, but Sirius always had.  Usually, he'd felt only its remnants, the residue left behind of Dark Magic, pain, and death.  This was fresh, current, happening, but he knew it all the same.  This was the same power, darkness, and death that he had felt almost fifteen years ago at Godric's Hollow as he bent over the bodies of his best friend and his wife.  He had felt it many other times, of course, before and since that moment, but that day had always been the strongest.  And he knew why.

_Voldemort is here._

A sudden groan reminded him that he was not alone.  "Fudge?" Sirius called.  His voice sounded muffled in the unnaturally thick air, even to his ears.  He listened carefully, but there was no response.  The only sound came from the noise of wreckage still raining down from the floors above them.

"Fudge?"

----------------------

**Author's Note:   Well, here's the next part, and please review to make me feel happy ****J.  I love to know what everyone thinks, and thanks for all the wonderful reviews I've gotten so far!  Stay around, though, because Harry's scar, Voldemort, Death Eaters, and much more is on the way!  Thanks again, and please R&R.**


	16. Unexpected Heroism

**DEATH BEFORE DISHONOR**

Chapter Fifteen: Unexpected Heroism 

Taking a deep breath, Harry knocked on the wooden door.  He was a little nervous about turning to Professor Lupin over this, but Sirius wasn't here—and Harry knew that no matter how little he wanted to talk about this with _anyone_, he had to.  Still, he'd hesitated before approaching Professor Dumbledore, in case he really was only worrying needlessly, and had finally settled on Professor Lupin.  Even if he was not quite as comfortable with Remus Lupin as he felt with Sirius, Harry had trusted the werewolf since before he'd even met his godfather, and knowledge of Remus' friendship with his father had only cemented that faith.  Besides, he had to talk to someone because Harry had no idea about what he should do.

After a slight hesitation, the familiar voice emerged from behind the office door.  "Come in!"

Harry opened the door, partially nervous but also glad he had come.  The sight before him, however, came as a surprise—instead of encountering only Lupin, he found himself looking right at Severus Snape, who was leaning on one of the History professor's many bookcases and staring back at him in equal surprise.  Lupin sat behind his desk, facing Snape with a thoughtful expression, but he smiled as Harry hesitantly entered the office.

"Hello Harry," his father's old friend said as Snape scowled.  "I didn't expect to see you."

The unwelcoming expression on his Potions master's face made a cascade of images resurface in Harry's mind.  Blinking, he tried to make them go away, but it was no use.  Once again, he saw a flash of green light, heard screams, saw bodies flying and buildings falling…there was confusion, dust, debris and laughing Death Eaters… Suddenly, the memory faded, and Harry shook himself.  The first he had seen these images had been just under twenty minutes before, and it was their unexpected presence that brought him to Lupin's office.  They weren't like his infrequent dreams—they were less concrete and foggier; it was harder to figure out what was going on in the few seconds' worth of flashes.  Also, he hadn't even been asleep.

"If you're busy, I can come back later," Harry heard himself say quickly.  Something about the look on Snape's face told him that this was a _bad_ time…and habit overrode the urgency that he felt concerning the flashes he was seeing.  _After all, I don't even know what they are_, he tried to reason.  _They might have happened years ago… Or they might be happening now._

The two professors exchanged a glance.  "We're not that busy," Remus replied.  "You look as if you something is bothering you.  Why don't you close the door and sit down, Harry?"

He nodded and complied, unable to keep the relief off of his face.  There was something important about those images, even though he could not tell what… Harry tried to remember exactly what had happened, but as seconds passed, the flashes because murkier and murkier.  All he remembered now was destruction—could he have been seeing Beauxbatons?  That would fit… With a start, Harry realized that both professors were staring at him expectantly.  He swallowed, trying to figure out how to explain events that he couldn't even remember, trying to figure out how to describe the urgency he felt without being thought ridiculous.

"It's my scar," Harry finally explained, wishing that the Potions master wasn't there to hear him sound like an idiot who couldn't even remember something he'd seen less than a minute before.  "It's burning."

Obviously, Lupin understood the significance of that; his History professor sat up straight and stared at Harry in concern.  But it was Snape's reaction that shocked Harry; the Potions teacher's expression changed abruptly from one of annoyance to one of genuine concern.  

"Shit," Snape said.

The second groan finally allowed Sirius to get his bearings, and having wasted enough time already, he rushed over to its source, yanking the desktop (minus its legs, which he spotted lying a few feet away) off of the Minister of Magic.  Sirius might have despised Cornelius Fudge as a person, but as his head stopped spinning, the situation became clearer.  And so did Voldemort's target.

He hauled Fudge to his feet.  "Let's go."

"Huh?" the Minster asked stupidly.  "Go where?"

"Anywhere but here," Sirius replied, tightening his hand on the other's arm and pulling him man forward.  He was hoping for more confusion than resistance, but, unfortunately, Fudge slammed on the breaks.

"Wait a minute," the Minister of Magic snapped.  "What's going on?"

"You think I know?" Sirius retorted angrily, thinking, _We don't have time for this!_  "All I know is that the floor just dropped out from under us, and this place is under attack.  We have to leave _now_."

Steel had entered Sirius' voice with the next words; his instincts were telling him that there was no time to waste, and his instincts were _never _wrong in times like this.  He knew what had to be done and knew it had to be done fast.  Escaping Death Eaters was never an easy task (in fact, many had found it downright impossible to do), and the longer they waited, the less time he had to save Fudge's practically useless but symbolically important life.  He might have hated the man, but the consequences of allowing Voldemort to kill the Minster of Magic were unthinkable.  Regrettably, Fudge was not as quick on the uptake.

"What are you talking about?" he demanded.  "This is the Ministry of Magic.  It _can't_ be under attack!"

"Tell that to Voldemort," Sirius snarled.

Fudge opened his mouth to respond, but Sirius slapped a hand over his mouth, listening closely.  The screams had started again, but this time they were closer.  And there were less.  Again, the oppressive feeling of death swept over him, and Sirius actually shuddered upon feeling it.  People were dying, innocent Muggles along with the outmatched Ministry witches and wizards.  Some had been caught in the blast that had taken the building apart (used, he was sure, more for psychological effect than its destructive value), and others were dying now as the Death Eaters came out to play.  _Play_.  It was barely past noon.  It was still daylight.  They were indeed getting bold.

Without warning, the years had melted away.  He was an Auror again; his senses and reactions told him that.  They were trapped and they were outmatched, but he was calm.  He was ready.  Abruptly, Fudge jerked away from him and snapped.  "You're mad!"

"Am I?  What other explanation can you think of?  This isn't exactly an earthquake in the middle of London!" he snapped.  "Use your brain, Fudge!  Listen to the screaming!  Voldemort is here!"  Again, he grabbed the Minister's arm.  "Now, let's go."

"But it could be…" Fudge trailed off, so frightened that he was unable to think of an excuse for what had happened.

"Sure it could," Sirius rolled his eyes, leading an unresisting Minister forward.  "And I'm your Fairy fucking Godmother."  Ignoring Fudge's babbled protests, he pulled his wand from his robes, letting go of the Minster as they reached the window.  Carefully, he glanced outside, but there was still a great deal of dust in the air, which made it hard to see.  However, he could tell that the window faced a street—hopefully a back alley not a main street in Muggle London, but whatever it was, the window offered a way out.  Belatedly, Sirius realized that he and Fudge had landed in a bottom floor conference room, which was why they were still alone.  He mumbled,_ "Finite Abderum." _

The anti-concealment spell revealed no hidden surprises immediately outside the window, and Sirius heard Fudge sigh in premature relief.  He, on the other hand, simply resisted the urge to roll his eyes again as he reached up and grasped the window frame.  _Hope the blast weakened the fittings, or we'll be here awhile_, Sirius thought to himself.  He pulled.  The window resisted, and Fudge didn't help.

"Why don't you just blast the thing?" the Minister asked impatiently.  He did have his own wand out, now, but Sirius certainly hadn't noticed Fudge offering to lend a hand.

"Let's just light off a beacon in the sky saying 'we're here', too, why don't we?" he retorted.

"There's no one out there."  Fudge rolled his eyes this time.

"No one that _you_ can see, you mean," Sirius replied.  _How did a stupid git like this ever become the Minster of Magic?_  He yanked the window frame angrily, and felt it budge.

 "So why don't you just do a Dark Searching spell, if you're so worried about someone being close by?"

Anger did the trick, it seemed; after another jerk, the window came free in his hands.  Sirius lowered it to the floor carefully, turning to look at Fudge and biting off the sarcastic reply that came to mind.  "Come here.  I'll boost you out the window."

"Me?  I'm not going first!"

"You're bloody well going when I tell you to."  Sirius wondered why he even bothered not to scream at the man.  Again, he grabbed Fudge and dragged him forward.  "Get over here."

"I'm the Minister of Magic, you can't order me around like some—"

"And I'm trying to save your pathetic neck," he growled.  "Stop arguing with the person who has experience doing things like this."

"You see—what if there is someone out there?" Fudge panicked.  "I mean, if you're trying to save me—AH!"

Sirius grinned nastily.  Willing or not, Fudge had just gone out the window; Sirius had picked up and thrown him bodily through the small opening.  Quickly, the ex-Auror followed, not much happier with the necessary arrangement than Fudge was, but he understood the reasons.  There was no way that the undersized and unfit Minister would have been able to hoist himself up and out the window without help, whereas Sirius had no problem with that.  He didn't exactly enjoy leaving Fudge exposed for the few seconds necessary to work himself through the opening, but nothing ever went perfectly, as Alastor Moody used to remind his students.  _Everything always gets fucked up._

Fudge had gotten to his feet as Sirius climbed out the window, but instead of doing something intelligent like taking cover, the Minister simply stood upright and stared.  Sirius opened his mouth to yell at him to get down, but the words dried up in his mouth as he noticed what Fudge was looking at.  The once proud Ministry of Magic was in shambles.

Half of the building's front was caved in; rubble was strewn all over the street, with bodies mixed in amongst the debris for extra flavor.  There were hurt and curious Muggles wandering around, poking at the wreckage and staring at the building, which indeed looked like it had experienced its own private earthquake.  Unfortunately, none of the neighboring structures had been damaged at all, which was bad because it meant that Voldemort could control this destructive power he had created.  The Ministry did not look as crushed as Beauxbatons had, though, which Sirius suspected was due to the wards guarding the place.  Beauxbatons had been breached through treachery, and while he had no doubt that the Ministry had its own share of traitors, too, Sirius knew that the layered defenses at the Ministry of Magic would make it harder for a few traitors to lay the building wide open for the Dark Lord.  _I would rather consider that than the other possibility, though, _Sirius thought._  That just means Voldemort is strong enough to blast through the wards._

Movement in what remained of the building's entranceway caught his eye, and Sirius swore.  Hooded and masked figures were rushing in his direction, wands at the ready.  A quick count revealed at least five of them, and shadowy figures moving within the collapsed doorway told Sirius that more were coming.  Death Eaters.

"Let's go!" Again, he grabbed Fudge, who was all too willing to move this time.  They sprinted down the street—which, unfortunately, was filling with Muggles—_So much for a back alleyway!_—trying to open up as much distance between themselves and the Death Eaters as possible.  Even the most powerful magic had limits, and the effective range of spells depended upon the strength of the caster.  The chances of doing so were slim, but if they could get enough of a lead and stay out of range, he and Fudge might have a chance to lose the Death Eaters and escape.

A sense prickled in the back of his mind, and although the words to the incantation were lost in the wind, Sirius heard the power behind the words right before a wave of energy knocked into them from behind.  He lost his grip on Fudge's arm as he flew, but a distant part of his awareness noticed when the Minister struck another building and slumped to the ground.  Sirius, however, sailed straight and true, landing hard on the paved street.  The impact knocked the breath out of him and he smacked his head hard enough to see stars, but there was no time to complain.  Desperately, he twisted aside just before a red flash of magic impacted with the spot of pavement he'd previously occupied.

Sirius rolled, coming up into a crouch, with his left hand forward and his wand held in a low fighting stance by his right side.  His eyes honed in on his attackers, and came to rest on one Death Eater who had arrived before the others.  The Death Eater's wand pointed straight at Sirius' face from not twenty feet away, and despite the mask and cloak, the ex-Auror would have recognized the slender and tall figure anywhere.

"Malfoy," he purred, smiling at his opponent. 

"Black." He could hear the sneer in the other's voice through the mask, and the anticipation.  Malfoy was happy.  That meant Voldemort must really want his head.

_Sorry if I don't give it to you today, Voldy-boy_, Sirius thought.  _I do have present need of it._  Both wizards spoke at the same moment.

_"Imperio!"_

_"Everbero!"_

Malfoy's Imperius Curse struck Sirius even as he heard the other laugh aloud as Sirius' spell sailed past him without doing any damage.  But even as he fought of the Imperius Curse—something he'd had a natural talent for even before Auror training—Sirius saw the _other _approaching Death Eaters sail backwards, victims of the same spell Malfoy had used to strike him and Fudge.  It was nice to know that he hadn't lost the ability to hit what he was aiming at.  Suddenly, though, Sirius found himself fighting off the entirely sensible urge to stand up and walk towards the now distracted Malfoy.   He paused and stilled his mind, all the while letting the curse build in strength—then floored it with the strongest resistance he could muster.

And suddenly his mind was his own and his vision was clear.  Sirius stayed in the crouch, his favorite fighting stance, and watched Malfoy's shocked body language as he judged what spell the other would not expect.  Quickly, he ran through a mental catalogue of his offensive weaponry, and for a short moment actually toyed with the idea of throwing the Imperius Curse back at Lucius Malfoy—but there were more effective ways to deal with Death Eaters.

_"Rotoentilo!"_  Sirius snapped his wand up, and watched Malfoy fly into the air, twisting like a top.  The other howled in fury, but that wasn't the point—_"Conteriaco!"_

An invisible hand slammed into the still airborne Death Eater and crushed him to the ground.  He twitched once, and then was still, but just to make sure, Sirius snapped, _"Expelliarmus!_" as he shot out of his crouch.  Malfoy's wand sailed into Sirius' left hand, and the Death Eater didn't move, which proved he was unconscious.  It had been quick and dirty, but that wasn't the point.  Speed was.  Before turning away, Sirius glanced at the Ministry building one last time, and immediately wished he had not.

A new figure had emerged from the ruined doorway.  He alone did not wear a hood or mask, but then again, he had no need to worry about recognition.  Despite himself, Sirius shivered as red eyes burned into him.  The inner sense he had of death and pain grew stronger.  _Voldemort._

Sirius Black was far from a coward, but he turned and ran, grabbing Fudge as he went.  Discretion was sometimes the better part of valor, and he had better things to do.

When nervous or otherwise emotionally unstable, Apparition was generally considered a BADidea.  In fact, it was a well-known fact that doing so often ended in the foolish wizard being splinched, which was probably the most embarrassing and uncomfortable accident a witch or wizard could have—and in his case, probably the deadliest as well.  Remus Lupin wasn't particularly worried about embarrassing himself (he'd done that plenty of times), and his life had been anything but comfortable since the werewolf had bitten him as a boy, but he had no intention of winding up with half of his body sitting helpless and motionless where a Death Eater could kill him.  Somehow, he reflected, that just would not make the day a success.

_Not like today has been anything but disastrous, already._

He Apparated into a back alleyway only a block away from the Ministry of Magic.  Remus did not know what he would find there, but the little news he had heard on the WWN did not sound good.  He hadn't expected to come here, but upon going to visit the Headmaster about Harry and Severus' unsettling troubles, he had been drafted for this mission.  After all, Snape couldn't exactly go wandering around in a city that was probably still crawling with Death Eaters—that would be equivalent to writing him a ticket back into Voldemort's hands, which none of them intended to do.  So Remus had gone, because someone had to do it.

Someone had to find out if Sirius was alive.

Remus swallowed.  Just thinking of losing his friend again was unbearable.  For twelve years, he had been alone, separated from the best friends a man could have—the only true friends he'd ever had.  They had been his companions and his partners in crime.  They had been his brothers in all but blood… For twelve years, Remus had believed himself the last Marauder, the only reminder of a brotherhood broken by betrayal.  He had lost James and Peter to Sirius' treachery, had lost Sirius to Azkaban and had hated him for every moment of loneliness—until he had learned that it was _Peter's_ betrayal that had killed James and sentenced Sirius to hell.  _Sirius…_

He gulped back emotion, moving swiftly out of the alley.  He wasn't going to lose his best friend now.  Not after he'd gotten him back.  Moony could not bear to let Padfoot die…they were the last of the Marauders.  They were brothers.  Remus quickened his pace.  It would not end like this.

Coming around the last bend in the street, he ran immediately into a crowd of nervous onlookers.  Remus was only partially surprised to see that the mob consisted of both Muggles and Magical folk; the attack had taken place less than an hour before, and most of the people who would normally be tasked to deal with the aftermath were inside the wreckage—and the werewolf gaped as he set eyes upon what was left of the Ministry building.  It was a wreck; a Muggle bomb would probably have caused less damage.  The wind shifted, carrying the scent of pain, fear, and death to his extra sensitive nostrils.  Pain seized up in his chest, then, and almost paralyzed him as he thought of the people who had died at Voldemort and his Death Eater's hands, or had been crushed in the collapse—_the collapse!_  Suddenly, his mind was working once more, and he realized that many of the scurrying figures were digging through the wreckage for a reason.  There could still be people trapped inside.

Remus jogged forward, looking for anyone who looked to be in charge.  Finally, his eyes settled upon a slim young wizard, and the professor realized he was in luck.  With an extra burst of speed, he reached the young man's side and halted.  The other looked at him with wide eyes, exclaiming,

"Professor Lupin!"

"Tell me what happened, Percy," he said quietly.  Remus needed more information, needed to know if anyone got out.

"They…I don't really know…" Percy Weasley's voice shook as he nervously ran a hand over his face.  "There was a sudden blast, and then everything started falling apart… We've found a lot of bodies, most of which seem to have been killed by…the Killing Curse."

"Have you found any survivors?"

"Of the curse?" Percy asked stupidly, and Remus resisted the urge to shake some sense into him.  _He's frightened,_ Lupin reminded himself.  _People do dumb things when they're scared._

"Of the explosion," he replied gently.

"Oh…uh, two," Weasley replied.  "They're both in pretty bad shape; they're with mediwitches.  We're looking for the Minister right now."

"Ah." Remus tried to sound noncommittal; after all, he had no way of knowing if Sirius had been speaking to Fudge when Voldemort had struck…or if he'd been in the waiting room that no longer existed inside the building's front doors.  "You haven't found him yet?"

Percy shook his head.  "No.  His secretary said that he was meeting with Sirius Black when everything—Professor, are you all right?"

Too later, Remus realized that he'd gone white and had to suck in a deep breath of air to keep his face impassive.  _Oh, god—oh, Sirius…_  He coughed to cover the emotions whirling through his head.  "Perhaps I can help," he said quickly, trying to concentrate, but it was so hard… "My senses are enhanced by my condition.  It's quite possible that I'll be able to pick up where people are."

"That would be very helpful," the young Ministry employee replied with feeling.  "All the Dark magic in the air is wrecking havoc with searching spells, and we don't have nearly enough people…"

But Remus did not hear the rest of Percy's words as he moved away, weaving his way through the wreckage to where he remembered Fudge's office being.  He'd only visited the Ministry a few times, but he remembered the Minister of Magic's office being in the right hand wing…_Oh, shit.  _The werewolf stopped cold.  Almost the entire area had collapsed in.  All four floors were now compressed into one.  _Sirius!_  Without thinking, Lupin sprinted into the center of the wrecked wing, tripping over a large chunk of wall along the way, but not caring.  He had to get to Sirius.

 The wolf was a pack animal, and it was as desperate as he.  Padfoot was pack.   Padfoot was family.  _I have to get to Sirius_.  Desperately, Remus stretched his senses out, thankful, for the first time in his life, for the wolf.  The wolf could smell what humans could not.  The wolf could spell Padfoot—but his senses were overwhelmed, at first, by blood.  By death.  By pain.  A wave of dizziness swept over Remus, and his stomach revolted at the scent.  Fear was heavy in the air…Fear…_Fudge!_  Further into the wreckage, he picked up Fudge's scent, and Remus waded forward, kicking debris out of his way.  Moving towards where the scent was strongest, he stopped.  There was a door in his way, so he opened it, and followed as the Minister's smell grew stronger.  Lupin was now in a room—it looked like it had been a conference room at one point, but its furniture was buried underneath rubble from the stories above.  Finally, he reached a relatively clear spot on the floor, and knew he'd found what he was looking for.  Fudge had been there, and very afraid.  

There was a flat piece of wood nearby (_a desktop?_), and not too far away, was an open window—no, that wasn't an open window.  It was a hole in the wall.  The window and frame were gone—again, he corrected himself.  The complete frame, including its sheet of unbroken glass, lay off to the side.  Curiously, Remus walked towards the opening, feeling that Fudge had been there, too, and his nose finally picked up a second scent.  This one had been hidden by the stronger smell of Fudge's terror, but the wolf in him almost howled victoriously upon picking it up.  He knew the scent.  _Sirius!_

Quickly, Remus looked around, trying to recreate his friend's actions.  It was easier to think clearly now that he knew Sirius was alive.  Both human and wolf were calmed by that knowledge, and he could smell his friend's cool intensity in the room now that he knew what to look for.  _They fell_, Lupin realized.  _The floor collapsed and they fell…and they went out that window_.  He peered outside, not expecting to see anything, but somehow getting a sense that Sirius had done the same.  What he saw, however, was a street.  In fact, it was a street that ran right into the one he'd come to the Ministry on; the building was, after all, situated on a corner.

Without further thought, Remus hoisted himself out of the small window and saw an even larger crowd milling around than on the front street of the building.  His sensitive ears picked up a great many conversations, but they were too jumbled to pick out the particulars.  However, most of the witches and wizards seemed to be more interested in the street than the Ministry.  A voice called to him. "Excuse me!"

Remus turned to see a pretty, auburn haired young woman approaching him.  He glanced around, sure that she could not be aiming for him, but she seemed to be walking straight towards him.  Cautiously, he responded, "Yes?"

"Are you Remus Lupin?" she asked as he stared at her in surprise.  His face wasn't exactly well known… She continued, sticking out her right hand. "I'm Amanda Givens_, Daily Prophet_.  I heard you talking to Percy Weasley."

"Hello," he responded carefully.  _Reporter_, Remus thought._  Great.  Just what I need.  I'd rather be looking for Sirius right now._

"I'm very sorry to bother you, but aren't you a professor at Hogwarts?" she asked with a reporter's sweet smile.  

 "I am."  _So?  _The wolf wanted to flee.  The human didn't have time for this nonsense.  "Look, I'd love to talk to you, but I'm looking for a friend right now.  Perhaps we can speak some other time."

Remus turned to leave, but her next question stopped him cold.  "Do you know Sirius Black?"

"Sirius?" He spun back to face her, struggling to control his face.  _Don't tell me they found his body_, the werewolf thought desperately.  _Please don't tell me he's dead_.  He swallowed.  "I do.  Why do you ask?"

"Well, I was wondering if you could shed some light on what happened here," Givens responded with a blinding smile.  "The insider's viewpoint, if you would."

"What happened here?"  _She doesn't sound upset_, Remus tried to calm himself.  _In fact, she sounds excited… _Unfortunately, though, that could just the voice of a reporter who had just uncovered the story of the year.

"You don't know?" Givens asked incredulously.

"No.  I just arrived from Hogwarts."  He wanted to scream at the woman.  _What happened?_

"Oh!" Again, her young face lit up.  "It was incredible.  It took place in the middle of the street, with dozens of witnesses—It seems that Black had somehow gotten the Minister of Magic out of the building, and they were trying to escape when Death Eaters started chasing him.  No one is quite sure how many there were, but Black took them out and they got away."

"They got away?" Remus gasped.  It was hard to breathe.

"I was hoping you might know where they are, actually," Givens said, nodding.

 "No, I don't," he replied.  _Thank god._  "I knew Sirius was here, but…"

"Sirius?" she repeated with interest.  "Do you know him well?"

"He's a good friend," Remus replied honestly.  _I can't believe I'm talking to a reporter_, he thought to himself.  _I think it's time to leave before she decides to interview me.  _ "Now, as much as I hate to say it, I must be returning to Hogwarts." 

Before she could reply, Remus had nodded politely, and Apparated.

----------------------

**Author's Note:   First I'll apologize for the bit of language…but when a building falls on you and Voldemort is wandering around inside, you don't say "shoot" very often.  Especially when you're talking to Fudge.  Personally, I think that Sirius showed admirable restraint for an ex-Auror (face it, they're bound to be at least a _bit _salty).  **

**            Second, I'd like to clear up the spell issue—yes, I created a few, but I couldn't help it.  As well all know, there have to be more spells out there than were written in the books, and I figure that Aurors would know some that kids simply don't learn at Hogwarts—even ones with Hermione Granger for their friend.  After all, you can't beat up Death Eaters using only _The Standard Book of Spells_.  So had to create few, though I tried to do so within the guidelines set forth by canon.  Also, I tried to create them the same way I see JKR doing, which is using Latin words and…abusing them a little.  I'm sorry if anyone doesn't like that, but I tried very hard to make it subtle.  And yes, I'll have to do a bit more of that in the future, because Voldemort isn't going down without a fight…if he goes down at all.**

**            Well, now that I've written an Author's Note to rival some people's chapters, I'll say the squishy stuff—THANKS AGAIN FOR READING.  It means a lot to me, especially in this, my first foray into the HP universe.  You people are encouraging me to write another story (for which I already have an idea) when I'm through here, so thanks a bundle for all the wonderful reviews.  Now, of course, I'm buttering you up, so please review some more.  It's great to know what people think.  Thanks again!**


	17. Ignition

**DEATH BEFORE DISHONOR**

Chapter Sixteen: Ignition 

_Bang!_

The trash bins exploded.  Flying straight up into the air, they sprayed metal fragments and refuse towards the intruder; the debris itself was only a distraction, of course, intended to mask the chunks of metal that would pelt their attacker into submission.  At best, the intruder would suffer heinous injuries; at worst, he would be distracted enough to fall victim to a well-timed attack.  The method had never failed before, even when the trespasser had been nothing more threatening than a shell-shocked cat.  These defenses had only been implemented at the beginning of the summer, and if they were perhaps less kind than the similar ones they had replaced, that was because the house on the corner's owner had grown more paranoid since that time.  If possible.

Unfortunately, however, even though the attacker sprang the trap quite unknowingly, he'd had a shield charm ready and deflected the shrapnel (and the miscellaneous rubbish) with ease.  He should have known something like this would happen.  His companion cowered behind a nearby hedge as a wooden legged figure clambered out of the little green house, a wand in hand and ready to hex everything in sight.  The grizzled old man stopped, wand raised, his magical and real eyes both swiveling over the crouched figure in his front yard.  Even if he hadn't recognized the signature in the shield charm (it had been a very long time, after all) he would have known the unorthodox dueling stance anywhere.

"Sirius Black," Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody grunted.  "You're the last person I expected to see on my doorstep, boy."

The slim, black-haired wizard rose from his crouch.  "You want to disable the wards, Alastor?  I need a word."

"Only once I'm sure you are who you look like."  Moody did not lower his wand.  Paranoia, it seemed, was still something he had refined into an art.

"I hardly think any self-respecting Death Eater is going to walk around wearing my face," Sirius replied with a slight smile.  Some things really didn't change, no matter how long you were gone.  To prove his point, he slid his own wand inside his robes.  "And while I'm perfectly willing to dance with your defenses all day long, I would really rather not keep him out in the open."

He gestured (Sirius had to do so twice before the point got across), and Fudge came creeping out from behind the next-door neighbor's shrubbery.  Moody's eyebrows rose in immediate recognition, and Sirius watched his old teacher calculate the odds in his head.  Finally, the famous Auror nodded, and with a mumbled incantation, lowered the multitudes of wards around the house on the corner.  A jerk of Moody's head led Sirius and the Minister into the little house, and he heard Fudge sigh in relief as the one-legged man stepped aside and held the door open for them.  Sirius allowed Fudge to precede him into the house, every sense aware, but consciously keeping his right hand away from his wand, no matter how much that damn hand wanted to stray in that direction.  The door closed with a snap, and Sirius felt a tingle of power as Moody's wand found a place very close to his left ear.

"If you're anyone other than Sirius Black, you're a dead man," the other growled.  The hostility in Moody's voice made very instinct in Sirius' body scream to act, but instead he turned around to look the other man in the eye. 

"I don't think anyone else would be foolish enough to walk unarmed into your house and face you alone," he said calmly.  His heart, however, pounded in his ears.

"You always were my brightest student," Moody replied grudgingly, his scarred face finally breaking into a grin.  He finally lowered the wand.

"I don't recall you ever using a word as complimentary as 'bright' during training, Alastor."

"You and Potter had egos enough without my help," Moody snorted, but his tone softened when Sirius felt his own expression grow sad.  The other nodded toward Fudge.  "But I don't need to tell you how good you are, especially since I expect that was you wrecking havoc over at the Ministry a bit ago.  I hear you took out Malfoy?"

Sirius shrugged.  He didn't ask how Moody knew.  Moody _always_ knew.  "Down, but not out."

"Still impressive."  The ex-Auror clapped him on the shoulder.  "Now, Sirius, I know you're not here without good reason.  What can I do for you?"

"Floo Network."  He jerked his head at Fudge.  "Tickets for two to Hogsmeade.  I need to get him to Hogwarts.  It's the only place I'm sure he'll be safe."

"Wise move.  I don't usually use the Floo Network from my own home, but for you I'll make an exception."  Moody gimped further into the house, gesturing for Sirius and the still-silent Minister to follow him.  The walk to the living room (and its fireplace) was thankfully short.  "I imagine you have all kinds of 'friends' on your tail."

"You can say that again, but I think I've lost them for a bit."

Picking up a glass jar from the mantle, the scarred man turned back to face them.  "I wouldn't be surprised if you did.  You've always been tricky."  For a moment, both his real and magical eyes locked into Sirius'.  "I was glad to hear of your innocence, Sirius."

"And I."  But he nodded his silent thanks to his old teacher.  Their styles might have differed a great deal, but there was no denying all the lessons he had learned from Alastor Moody, and it was good to hear that.

"Speaking of which, I _am _rather surprised to that you saved him," the old Auror continued coldly.  "If I were you, I'd have let him die."

_"What?!"_  The Minister's eyes nearly bugged out of his head.

"Shut up, Fudge," Moody retorted casually, his eyes still on Sirius.

"Now see here, Moody—"

"I said to shut up, Fudge."  The scarred face swung to glare at the Minister, eyes flashing.  Moody's voice was dangerously soft, and even Cornelius couldn't miss that message.

"I'd like to think I'm better than that," Sirius finally said in response to Moody's question.  It had the potential to make him uneasy, and he _had _indeed thought about it, but saving Fudge had been the right thing to do.  No matter how many good reasons he had to hate the man.

Moody grinned wolfishly.  "So would I.  The difference is, I know I'm not."  Fudge recoiled.  "Now, enough small talk.  Get on to Hogwarts, and tell Albus I'll be along in a day or two."

"You will not."

Sirius felt his eyebrows rise as Fudge made the bold, flat statement, his little eyes dark and determined.  The Minister had risen from his chair at the announcement, and now glared down at the wizard who sat casually behind the antique desk.  Fury radiated off of Fudge in waves, making him seem larger than he truly was, but the soft voice that responded to his challenge was anything but frightened.

"I will not?"  Albus Dumbledore looked at the Minister of Magic levelly.  "I fail to see how you are going to prevent me."

"Even you would not dare!" Fudge hissed, pointing an enraged finger at Dumbledore.  "Why, if you even think about doing so, I will—"

"You will do what, Cornelius?" the headmaster asked softly.  "If you attempt to remove me from this school, Voldemort will be here within a day."

"You're bluffing."

Dumbledore sighed.  "I do not bluff, and I am not foolish enough to wish to prove you wrong by leaving," he replied, his voice hardening.  "I warned you this would happen, Cornelius.  I warned you more than once.  The time for deceptions and games is over.  I _will _make the announcement tomorrow afternoon, and I will call for the Wizarding world to back me in defense of light magic."

"You have no right!" Fudge spat, slamming a hand down on the headmaster's desk with a _crack_.  "I am doing what I see is best.  I am trying to prevent riots, chaos!  Do you have any understanding of what will happen if you announce that the Dark Lord has returned?  People everywhere will panic!"

Suddenly, Dumbledore rose, his voice hard and angry.  "And if I do not, more people will die without knowing the threat they face!" he thundered.  "We have the ability to win this war only if we stand together.  Public image and spin control have no place here!  You may have decided to lead the Magical community towards disaster, but I will not permit it!  With or without you, Cornelius Fudge, I _will _win this war!"

"You mean to have my job."  Fudge shrank back from the power radiating from the Hogwarts headmaster, staring at the old man with wide eyes.  Sirius blinked, trying to convince himself that the Minster wasn't actually trembling, but he was.  Oh, he was.

Then again, if Dumbledore had looked at him that way, he'd probably be quaking as well.  To his right, he could see that Snape felt the same as the Potions master let out a soft breath in admiration, and for once, he agreed completely with the former Death Eater.  When Sirius and Fudge had arrived at Hogwarts late in the afternoon, the Minister of Magic had been badly shaken and hardly capable of coherent thought.  A few potions made by Snape had returned Fudge to his senses (what little of them he possessed, anyway), and then they had begun to discuss the issue at hand.  While Fudge had been grateful enough for the protection offered, he steadfastly refused to acknowledge that it was Voldemort he needed protecting from.  Even after seeing the Dark Lord with his own eyes—and witnessing the destruction Voldemort could wreck—Fudge would not admit to the truth.  Trying to protect the Minister from their pursers (and from himself) had nearly driven Sirius insane, and he'd been grateful when Dumbledore had told Fudge to shut up as Madam Pomfrey examined Sirius.  She'd fussed, poked, and prodded while he'd told Dumbledore what had happened, and yelled at Snape when the Potions master had asked, rather interestedly, if Malfoy was dead.  Sirius, however, had simply told Snape that he was welcome to the senior Death Eater, and had been slightly complimented (not to mention surprised) that Snape had naturally assumed Malfoy wouldn't kill _him_.  Dumbledore's answer, though, brought him back to the present.

"No.  I have no more intention to become the Minister of Magic than I did twenty years ago," he said.  "However, I _will _lead the fight against Voldemort.  And I mean to do it with or without your support."  His blue eyes burned into Fudge, and Sirius saw the other man shiver.  "You have made your choice clear, Cornelius.

"And I have made mine."

Sirius gave up on watching Fudge.  His reactions were all the same: shock and fear.  Rather, he kept his eyes on the headmaster, slightly awed by the power that Dumbledore could radiate in moments like t his.  As a member of the Order of the Phoenix, he had seen this before—once, almost sixteen years ago, in a highly charged encounter between Albus Dumbledore and Alastor Moody, that had almost ended in disaster—but it was still incredible to witness.  So many wizards had a tendency to underestimate Dumbledore, despite his reputation.  They only saw the twinkling blue eyes and the eccentric habits.  They never saw the iron-hard backbone that existed beneath the smiling exterior, never thought to remember that _Voldemort_ feared Dumbledore.  Perhaps that was because the headmaster had always been a mover of events rather than a warrior; he preferred to work behind the scenes and use his foresight and abilities to guide others in achieving their goals.  However, there were moments—as a Dark wizard named Grindelwald had discovered—when Dumbledore could be a very frightening enemy.

The Minister's eyes moved from the headmaster, searching the staff room for an ally of any kind, but all he found was Sirius and Snape.  For a moment, Fudge stared at Sirius, his big eyes pleading with the ex-Auror to save him once more, but Sirius ignored the silent entreaty.  His presence and Snape's, the professor knew, were intended to support Dumbledore.  He had already related the summer's events to the Minister, just like Snape had related a heavily watered-down version of his experiences—but Fudge still did not believe.  Perhaps he could not believe.

Or maybe he just wanted to hang onto his power so badly that he could think of nothing else.

"Albus…" he whispered desperately.  "Surely there must be another way…"

"There is not other way," Dumbledore replied coldly.  "Are you with me or not?"

"You would not truly break with the Ministry," Fudge said quickly.  "After everything we have done together…after all of this time…"

Dumbledore stared at him.

"But there is…" Fudge trailed off helplessly, and there was a long silence.  Finally, the headmaster spoke in a soft voice, but he was still radiating that undeniable and dangerous power.  His eyes, unflinching, rested upon the Minister of Magic.

"Make the choice, Cornelius."

Midnight.  Darkness.  The time the Death Eaters come out to play.

The neighbors might have been Muggles, but they had grown used to strange noises coming from the little green house on the corner.  Odd rumors surrounded its owner, the strangest of which usually included attacking dustbins or possessed shrubbery.  But the owner of the house was usually a gentleman, and had lived in the house for years.  He could be a bit moody, at times, but the neighbors understood.  So, they ignored the strange noises when they started around eleven o'clock that night.  Perhaps he was having a party.  That could account for the banging and flashing lights.  A party.  Sure.

The screaming began around midnight.

One by one, curious and concerned neighbors drifted out of their homes.  Most stayed in their own yards, and although some ventured so far as the street, no one went closer to the house on the corner.  Something was just _wrong_ there.  The screaming had been going on, almost without stop, for nearly one half of an hour.  No one knew what its cause could be, but it sounded terrible.  Something was wrong, and finally, one neighbor, an elderly woman who had known the man in the house on the corner for years, thought to call the police.

Just before the police cars rolled up, the neighbors saw a green flash.  Seconds later, a strange image of a skull floated into the sky, a snake coming out of its mouth like a tongue.

_Pain_.

His scar was burning.  For a short moment, Harry felt as if his skull was on fire, and then, suddenly, he felt _awareness_.  This wasn't like his dreams.  It wasn't like anything he had ever felt before, but suddenly, he felt as if Voldemort was aware of him, too, and knew he could feel the Darkness…and then it was gone.  Empty.  The burning stopped, but Harry had a feeling that Voldemort had not.

He, blinked, looking around the darkened room, and could see that his classmates slept peacefully.  Had he imagined the pain?  Was it only a dream?  The burning had only lasted for a second or two; maybe he was wrong.  Maybe it was nothing.

But he knew it wasn't.

It was an island, rocky and cold.  Every now and then, if one listened closely enough, screams could be heard from within its walls, but there were no Muggles nearby to wonder what that was for.  And no wizard in their right mind would travel anywhere near the place.

Boats, however, were approaching the shore, bearing cloaked figures with wands out.  Behind the masks, the men and women were tense; few wanted to journey to Azkaban Fortress, but none would disobey.  All had spent over a decade avoiding this terrible place, but they came to its shores now, willingly and obediently.  Even from afar, the pain and suffering contained within those walls was palatable, and more than one boater felt a shiver run down their spine.  Hooded figures drifted towards the docks to meet the boats.

One figure stepped out from the lead boat, arms upraised in greeting.  He alone was without fear; the others could see him smiling.  The wind whipped across the island, but the figure did not seem to notice or care as his cloak danced around his body.  He simply strode across the rocky shore with confidence, like a king returning victoriously to his country after years of exile.

One by one, the Dementors began to bow.

--------------------

**Author's Note:   First, let me say a giant THANK YOU for all the reviews, especially in support of my creative spell work and the tiny bit of language that nobody seemed to mind.  This time around, the chapter's a bit short (but, I _promise _to update again before FFN goes down for maintenance with the next one, which is just about finished and is longer), but I do hope you like it and will review.  Stay tuned for a bit of Sirius' past to creep into the picture… I can't tell you what, but I promise it'll be good!**


	18. Inferno

**DEATH BEFORE DISHONOR**

Chapter Seventeen: Inferno 

**UNEXPECTED HEROISM**

by Amanda Givens, special correspondent to the _Daily Prophet._

For fourteen years, the name of Sirius Black has been synonymous with the

word "traitor."  Not for many years has it been equated with the concept of

a hero.

However, that all changed as Black single-handedly defeated six Death Eaters

yesterday afternoon, saving the life of Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic, in

the process.  Although no Death Eaters were killed or captured, Black's actions

clearly saved the Minister from falling into their hands and suffering the same

fate as so many other witches and wizards who died in the attack on the Ministry.

Witnesses, however, are uniformly shocked over the cool display of power that

Black exhibited.

It is odd, however, that such a fact surprises many of us.  Fourteen years ago,

news of Black's "treachery" shocked and frightened the Magical world, and from

that moment, he became known simply as the man who killed thirteen people with

one curse.  No one ever thought to look at his past.

Sirius Black became an Auror in the height of the war against He-Who-Must-Not-

Be-Named.  In only three years of fieldwork, Black had become the second most

respected wizard in the discipline, surpassed only by the legendary Mad-Eye Moody.

He was involved in the capture of many Death Eaters (the circumstances of which

are mostly still classified as secret by the Ministry), but no one can forget the 

Lestrange Incident in 1979, when the Department of Magical Law Enforcement

sent only three Aurors to capture two of the Dark Lord's deadliest servants.  Of

the three, Black was the only survivor.  Battered and bloodied, he brought 

the Lestranges to trial, and they remain in Azkaban to this day.

Recovered Ministry records reveal more than just his numerous successes,

however.  Through careful research, the _Daily Prophet_ has uncovered the fact

that Black was never even given a trial, and spent twelve years as the most

heavily guarded prisoner in Azkaban before he became the first ever to escape

the Wizard's prison.  Unconfirmed reports also tell us that Black was interrogated

under potentially lethal doses of Veritaserum after his capture and is rumored to

have been tortured by guards in the Ministry's search for a confession.

Such a man deserves to be called nothing less than a hero, especially after his 

actions yesterday.  Furthermore, his treatment at the Ministry's hands ought to 

make witches and wizards everywhere wonder exactly what the Ministry of Magic

has been doing for all these years.  First, they imprison an innocent man, and now,

with attacks by Death Eaters increasing by the day, the Ministry of Magic still has

not acted.  Nor have any Ministry witches and wizards offered any explanation for 

this recent resurrection of Darkness.  And despite the Minster of Magic's adamant

denials, this reporter, for one, must wonder if the rumors of the Dark Lord's rebirth

are true.

Black is currently teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts School of

Witchcraft and Wizardry, where he has become a favorite of students and staff alike.  

He has also recently been revealed as the godfather and guardian of Harry Potter, the

Boy Who Lived.  Sources at the school say that he fulfills the parental role well and 

has become the only real family young Harry has. Contact with Hogwarts has confirmed

his safe return, and it is believed that Black also brought Fudge with him to the one

place allies of the Light have always been safe.

Oddly enough, this confirmation came via a press release issued by Headmaster

Albus Dumbledore, who has also invited reporters from all over the Magical world

to a press conference this afternoon at Hogwarts.

Early that morning, Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat in their History of Magic class, discussing Voldemort's methods of gathering followers, but finding it very hard to concentrate.  Harry's mind kept drifting back to the _Daily Prophet_'s headline article, "Unexpected Heroism," and wondering how much of it was true.  Having seen Sirius defeat three Death Eaters that summer, Harry had no problem believing that his godfather had done what the paper claimed he had.  It was the other parts of the article that bothered him.  The parts that said Sirius had been tortured.

He'd tried to look for Sirius immediately after reading the article at breakfast, but had learned from Professor McGonagall that Sirius was working with Professor Snape on something important.  He had wanted to see his godfather when Sirius had arrived the night before, but Sirius, Snape, and Dumbledore had immediately gone into a meeting with the Minister of Magic that ended up lasting late into the night.  Again, though, it was not the previous days' events that worried him.  It was the hints of a past Sirius had never mentioned before.  Harry had not ever wanted to ask Sirius about his time in Azkaban—after the effect Dementors had on _him_, he could only imagine what a terrible place the wizard prison was.  However, even when Sirius had told Harry, Ron, and Hermione about how Crouch had sent him to Azkaban without a trial, he had never mentioned anything like this.

And Harry was beginning to realize that there was an awful lot about Sirius' past that he did not know.

"Harry!"  A sudden elbow poked into his rib cage, and he turned to glare at Hermione irritably.  She stared back, unfazed.  "Class is over."

"Oh."  Shaking his head, Harry stood and started gathering up the notes he hadn't really paid enough attention to take.  "Uh…Ron, can I borrow your notes later?" he asked.  "I seem to have been a little distracted today."

His friend grinned.  "Yeah.  I understand, Harry."

"Thanks."  Together, the three friends hefted their bags and turned to leave, only to be stopped by Professor Lupin.  

"Harry," he called, walking up to them and making Harry squirm.  Professor Lupin didn't miss much; of course he'd noticed that Harry hadn't been paying attention in class!  He hadn't really meant to be disrespectful, but he'd been distracted.  Harry had always liked Professor Lupin a great deal, and for the first time since he'd come to Hogwarts, History of Magic had become one of their most interesting classes—but he'd been distracted.

"You two can go ahead," Lupin said to Ron and Hermione.  "I need to talk to Harry for a bit."

"I have to go to Divination, Professor," Harry said quietly as his friends looked to him before leaving.  Not like he really wanted to go, anyway, and hear another prediction about how he was going to die _this_ year (Professor Trelawney, after all, hadn't "foreseen" which student was going to die, yet, and Harry was certain she'd pick him if he skipped).

Lupin smiled slightly.  "You're excused from class, Harry.  I need you to come with me."  He looked at Ron and Hermione.  "And no, he's not in trouble, so go to class before you two are late."

Within moments, his friends were gone and Harry was heading down the hall at Professor Lupin's side.  He was silent for a long moment, wondering what this could be about.  Finally, when he could stand the suspense no longer, he asked, "Where are we going?"

"To the headmaster's office."

"Is it Voldemort?  Did something else happen?" Harry asked, feeling his breath quicken.

"No."  Lupin looked down at him briefly, and then changed the subject.  "You were distracted in class today, Harry."

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, looking at the floor.  Of all the teachers, he felt the worst ignoring Lupin.  "I didn't mean to be."

Suddenly, Lupin's hand was on his shoulder.  "I know," he said.  "You're worried about Sirius.  So am I."

Harry looked up.  "Why are you worried, too?" he asked.  "Don't you know about everything?"

"No, that article was as much news to me as it was to you, and I haven't gotten a chance to talk to him about it either," Lupin sighed.

"But he stayed with you this summer."

"He did," his professor replied.  "And I know he's had nightmares, but I guess I assumed…" Lupin shook his head.  "Sirius…Sirius is a very strong man, Harry.  With his life, he's had to be—and if he wasn't so strong, animagus or no, he'd have never survived Azkaban intact.  He doesn't like to show weakness, even with me.  He'd just rather push past it."

"Oh."  They had reached the gargoyle, and Lupin gave the password.

"Snickers bar."  

The gargoyle leapt aside, and the wall swung open; moments later, Harry found himself up the spiraling staircase and entering Dumbledore's office at Lupin's heels.  When they entered the circular room, he was slightly surprised to see that only the headmaster awaited them.  Standing against the far wall, Dumbledore smiled slightly, but he seemed strained, somehow, to Harry's eyes.  He also seemed worried.  "Remus, Harry," he greeted, gesturing them into chairs.  "Thank you for coming."

"Where's Sirius?" Lupin asked.

"He will be here shortly.  He and Severus were discussing the Dark Mark."

It was kind of odd to hear that Sirius and Snape were speaking civilly; every time Harry had seen them together, Snape seemed determined to kill his godfather, who in turn seemed absolutely delighted with irking the Potions master in every way possible.  So far, there had not been any outright hostility between them during this term, but Harry knew they just didn't _like _each other.  He also knew they did not have much in common; besides their youthful animosity, a former Death Eater and an ex-Auror just weren't the type to become friends.  Suddenly, though, a strange expression crossed Lupin's face.

"Does he know we're here?" the History professor asked.

"No, he does not," Dumbledore replied quietly.

Worry creased the werewolf's face.  "Has he even read the article?"

"No.  He does not know about it yet."  The headmaster paused, and then looked at Lupin.  "I thought it best for you especially to be here when he does."

Remus nodded, but Harry frowned.  "Excuse me, Professor, but why am I here?"

"That is a very good question, Harry."  Dumbledore looked at him over the top of his glasses.  "And Sirius may not want you to be here for this.  But that is his choice to make, and I know that you are worried about this, are you not?"  Harry nodded.  "Then let us see what he feels."

"He wouldn't want me to hear this because I'm a kid," he said softly.  __

"No, Harry."  Dumbledore moved forward and placed a hand on his shoulder.  "Sirius would not want you here because he wants to protect you.  Even from his own demons."

Harry didn't know what to say to this, but it turned out that he did not have to find a reply.  The door opened then, and Dumbledore moved forward to greet Sirius.  Only then did Harry notice that the headmaster held a copy of the _Daily Prophet_'s front page in his other hand.  Twisting in his chair, Harry watched his godfather stop just inside the door, looking between the three people in the round office.  "Is something wrong?"

"Read this, Sirius."  Dumbledore handed the article over, and there was silence as Harry and his companions watched Sirius read the article.  At first, his face was expressionless, but when it tightened ever so slightly Harry could tell that his godfather had reached the sixth paragraph.  Sirius finished the article without speaking, and Harry watched his eyes flick over it a second time as the tension was forcibly erased from his features.  Finally, he looked up and spoke very calmly to Dumbledore.

"I assume you are their Hogwarts source?" Sirius asked.

"I am."

"Why?"  There was no anger in his voice, but there was a trace of emotion that Harry could not define.  Hurt?  Pain?  Betrayal?

"Because people need heroes," the headmaster replied evenly.  "Now, more than ever.  And what you have done is _not _something just anyone can do.  You know that."

 "I wasn't asking about that." Sirius' eyes flickered away.  

Harry watched the expression on Dumbledore's face soften, and the old man stepped towards Sirius, reaching out a hand to touch his shoulder.  Suddenly, though, Sirius' eyes came up, and there was something in the suddenly cold gaze that halted even Albus Dumbledore.  The headmaster's hand dropped back to his side, and he spoke very gently.

"I did not tell them the rest, Sirius.  I did not know about it until now.  Had I been aware of what happened to you, I would have fought the injustice."

Again, Sirius looked away, and Harry watched his eyes transform.  As his godfather stared at the far wall, the confidence Harry had become accustomed to seeing in Sirius' gaze vanished, to be replaced by the same haunted look that twelve years in Azkaban had given him.  Sirius took a deep breath, and Harry saw something flash across his face.  Suddenly, his godfather burst into motion and moved to the window, staring out into the morning sun with his back to the rest of the room.  He was silent for several long moments, then glanced down at his hands resting on the windowsill.  He spoke quietly.  "So now you know."

"No more than what is said in the article," Dumbledore replied softly.

There was a long silence, in which Harry began to grow worried.  Over the past year, he had seen Sirius become more and more like the man he had been before Azkaban, had seen his godfather battle, teach, laugh, and joke—for a while, he felt he had known the man his father had loved like a brother.  But now…now Sirius' shoulders were tense, and his back remained to them as he stared downwards.  He desperately wished that there was something he could do, but he did not know what could be done if anything, to help ease this resurfacing pain.  However, Harry did know that he probably wasn't the one who could do it.  And someone else definitely thought that, too.

"Sirius?" Lupin asked quietly.  Several more seconds of silence passed, and then Harry's godfather turned, his face composed but eyes still haunted.  He looked directly at Dumbledore.

"You want to know what happened."

"If you are ready to tell, yes," the headmaster responded.  His eyes were grave, and Harry believed that Dumbledore truly regretted asking this.

Sirius snorted.  "I would not have waited so long if it were something I wanted to even think about," he replied.  Then he took a deep breath.  "But I think, at least, this is something that you may need to know."

"If you want me to leave, I will," Harry whispered.  He felt out of place, and only wanted to do what was best for his godfather (who had, after all, done so much for him), but Sirius shook his head.

"No, Harry.  You deserve to know."  Woodenly, Sirius crossed to an empty armchair and sat down, separated by distance from both Harry and Lupin.  He clasped his hands between his knees and stared at the floor for a moment before looking up at Dumbledore, who was the only one still standing.  There was pain on Sirius' face, but determination, as well.  Still, he looked very tired.  "Where do you want me to start?"

"It is your story, Sirius," the headmaster replied gently.  "We are simply here to listen."

Harry's godfather nodded and took another deep breath.  Then he began to speak, his voice soft but level, and his eyes looking down at his hands.

"When the Aurors and the Hit Wizards showed up to arrest me, I went peacefully.  Most of them were colleagues of mine, and some were even friends, so I figured that everything would get cleared up quickly.  I wasn't very surprised when they stunned me, but I got more of a shock when I woke up, already chained to an interrogation chair with Crouch reading the charges against me.  Immediately, I asked to talk to either of you; Remus, of course, knew that Peter was an animagus, and I figured that you would at least listen to my story, Albus.  But I was refused.

"Crouch wanted a confession.  I told him I was innocent.  I expected a little bit of professional courtesy from the man—I'd been the second-ranking Auror in his department for over a year, and even if we didn't always see eye to eye, Crouch and I had a fairly good working relationship.  However, things didn't work out quite like I expected, because he definitely had intention of believing me right from the beginning.

"Again, he demanded a confession.  Again, I told him I was innocent, and told him that I'd testify under Veritaserum to prove it.  Then I tried to tell him that Peter had been the Secret-Keeper, and that he wasn't dead, but he apparently had decided that he didn't care what I had to say.  There were plenty of guards in the room—mostly Hit Wizards, but a few Aurors, too—and I wasn't going anywhere, so it wasn't hard for them to shut me up.  Besides, I knew that he wouldn't be able to deny anything I said under Veritaserum, and I knew I wasn't lying, so I was content to wait.

"They started with the standard dosage—three drops.  Crouch fired questions at me, and I started to tell them what had happened, but before I'd gotten very far, he decided that I was using some kind of Dark Magic to fight off the truth potion.  So they increased the dosage—four drops was authorized for resistant Death Eaters at the time.  Unfortunately, though, I wasn't lying, so my story didn't change.  It went on for quite awhile, but they kept increasing the dosage.  Eventually, I started getting pretty sick.  I ended up incoherent, and it took me a few days before I conscious enough for them to continue.  However, I do remember that they finally quit when my story didn't change after thirteen drops."

Lupin sucked in a sudden breath, and even Dumbledore seemed angered by this.  Harry knew that the use of Veritaserum was controlled by very strict Ministry guidelines, but he knew next to nothing else about the truth serum.  He remembered the effect that only three drops had on Barty Crouch Junior in his fourth year, and Hermione had once mentioned that Veritaserum induced violent nausea in about ninety percent of those it was used upon—but Sirius was continuing.

"Crouch still believed I was somehow fighting the potion.  However, he decided not to try Veritaserum again for awhile—I believe that they'd had a medwitch examine me, and she'd told Crouch that any more of it would definitely kill me, but I was only about half-conscious at the time, so I'm not really sure.  Anyway, I was lucid enough to ask when my trial was, but Crouch—did I mention that Fudge was there?—told me that I did not deserve one, and once they had gotten a confession out of me, I wouldn't need a trial to send me straight to Azkaban.  I told him that I couldn't confess to something I didn't do, and called him an arrogant fool for not believing the truth.  

 "That probably wasn't the best idea I'd ever had, but I was angry and scared, and certainly didn't want to go to Azkaban.  I'd been there several times when delivering prisoners, and although I had a solid Patronus, Dementors scared the hell out of me.  Crouch, however, was not amused, and decided to see if I'd be any more cooperative under the Imperius curse."  Sirius shrugged, but Harry knew that his nonchalance was feigned.  "He forgot I was an Auror.  I'd been trained to fight the curse off, no matter how awful I was feeling, so I did.  Doing so made me a lot weaker, though, and looking back on it, I'm surprised Crouch didn't try it a second time.  It probably would have worked.

"Instead, he tried the Cruciatus curse."  Sirius blinked.  "I don't know how long it lasted before I passed out."

 There was a long silence, but no one broke it.  Instead, they all waited until Sirius was ready to continue.  Harry knew that his godfather was being entirely too dispassionate about what had happened, and he wondered if that was because he was there.  He frowned, not wanting to be treated like the child he no longer was—but then he remembered what Dumbledore had said.  _"Sirius wants to protect you…even from his own demons._"  There was a lot, he had a feeling, that Sirius was not saying, and he wondered how much it still hurt him.  The few times Harry had encountered the Cruciatus curse had been horrible enough—how must it feel to be subjected to that by people who were supposed to be your friends?  How must it feel to be tortured until you confessed to a crime you did not commit?

When Sirius continued, his voice was even softer than before.  "They kept trying that for a few days," he said.  "I really don't know how long it lasted.  Somewhere in the middle of it all, they moved me to Azkaban, because I remember waking up in a cell, surrounded by Dementors…" His shoulders shook slightly.  "That was when they stopped asking questions.  I guess they just wanted to wear me down until they could get the answers they wanted.  Crouch, usually accompanied by Fudge, dropped in from time to time, but usually he just left me in the hands of the Azkaban guards and a few Ministry-trained interrogators.  It was about a month before they tried the Veritaserum again.  This time, though, the standard dose made me start throwing up immediately, and when they tried increasing it, I ended up catatonic.  So, after they managed to wake me up, they went to more…traditional methods of getting answers.

"My first few months in Azkaban are a blur.  They used the Cruciatus curse from time to time, and they tried Veritaserum twice more, but my reactions to the potion got worse each time.  Mostly, they just tried to beat a confession out of me."

"When did they stop?" Lupin whispered into the stillness, his voice hoarse.

"Somewhere between nine and ten months after I was captured.  I don't really know."

Sirius' voice was still level, but Harry noticed that his hands were shaking.  In his place, Harry was sure that he would have broken down by now—he couldn't even face Voldemort for a few minutes without ending up in tears, yet Sirius had gone through nine or ten _months_ of torture.  He wasn't showing it, but reliving those experiences had to be killing him.  Again, Harry started racking his brain for something to do, anything to do, to help his godfather, who he owed so much, but he could think of nothing.  Desperately, he looked at Dumbledore, but the old man only shook his head with an expression that told Harry to wait.  He did not understand why until he turned his head in Sirius' direction once more, and noticed that Professor Lupin had moved to kneel by Sirius' side.

"Sirius?" Lupin asked gently, laying a hand on his friend's shoulder when there was no reply.  "Padfoot?"

Harry saw his godfather's eyes shut.  "I'm fine, Remus."

"No you're not," Lupin replied softly.

"I'll _be _fine.  Leave it alone."  There was an edge of desperation in Sirius' voice.

"No."

Lupin's flat response shocked Harry, and it evidently did not make Sirius very happy, either.  Abruptly, he jerked away from his friend and stood up, his face set and striding past Dumbledore and out the door.  Lupin sprang up and followed him immediately, calling "Sirius!" with more worry than anger in his voice.  Harry began to rise and follow them, but a gentle hand pushed him back into his chair.

"Leave them be, Harry."  He looked at Dumbledore, whose face was tight and strangely drawn.  "Remus will talk to him.  Sirius will be all right."

"Then why do you look so angry?" he found himself asking.

Dumbledore's eyes flashed, and it suddenly occurred to Harry that he wouldn't want to be Cornelius Fudge right at that moment.  _It's a good thing Crouch is already dead, _he thought to himself as the headmaster came around his desk and sat down behind it.  _I think Dumbledore might kill him._  Finally, the headmaster asked quietly, "How much do you know about Veritaserum?"

"Not much," Harry admitted.  "I know it's the most powerful truth serum in existence."

 "That is correct," Dumbledore nodded.  "Three drops of Veritaserum is considered enough to break through the strongest of resistance; for most people, one drop would suffice.  Four drops was indeed authorized in _extreme _cases, and the highest dosage allowed under any circumstances is five.  Eight drops can lead to permanent damage.  Ten is considered lethal."

Harry stared.  He couldn't believe that anyone could do that kind of thing to another person… The fury was still plain on Dumbledore's face and it showed no signs of diminishing.  

"The Veritaserum is not the only reason I am so angry," Dumbledore continued, his voice growing very hard.  "You see, Harry, there are reasons why a Ministry of Magic exists.  One of them is to _prevent _things like this from happening.  Torturing suspects for information has never been allowed.  _Never_.  It makes us no better than Voldemort and all we fight against.  And now I know that Cornelius Fudge, a man I supported as the Minister of Magic, condoned it."

----------------------

**Author's Note:   Okey…As promised, it's up before the site goes down tomorrow.  Sorry that it came now; I intended to do it this afternoon, but classes got in the way.  This was a tough part to write, one that eluded me for a bit.  Forgive me if it's a bit dark…but I don't imagine that this part of Sirius' life was anything nice.  So please review and tell me what you think—, this is a part of the story that sort of grew out of itself, and it wasn't what I expected it to be at all.  Then again, stories can do that to you sometimes, and this one has just written itself!  Thanks again for reading and all the great reviews.  If I beg will you give me some more? **


	19. The Eye of the Storm

**DEATH BEFORE DISHONOR**

Chapter Eighteen: The Eye of the Storm 

Sirius fled.  It had nothing to do with courage—or perhaps it had everything to do with that.  He had been able to deal with everything, with the resurfacing pain and telling the story of what had happened, until smacked in the face by Remus' compassion.  By facing it calmly and objectively, he had been able to push the emotions intertwined with the memories to the side, had been able to try to pretend that it meant nothing to him…except for Remus.  Damn Remus, for seeing right through the mask of calmness that he used to fool even himself.  Damn Remus for knowing him even better than Sirius knew himself.  So he fled, and no one alive knew the Hogwarts castle better than Sirius Black—except for Remus Lupin.

_Damn him_.  Of course, Remus had found him.  Sirius had hoped he'd lost him along the way; he'd certainly slipped down forgotten corridors and secret passageways often enough to do so, but the door was opening, now, intruding upon the solitude he'd found up in the astronomy tower.  He tried to pretend that the creak he heard wasn't the door's ancient hinges, tried to concentrate on looking out at the mid-morning sun.  Daylight, somehow, seemed to always help; it never reminded him of Azkaban.  Sirius ignored Remus when his friend said his name softly.  Footsteps sounded, though, and he knew the other was approaching.  The last thing he wanted to do right now was talk.  Sirius only wanted to get control of himself.

"Leave me alone, Remus."

"No."

Again, the flat refusal, filled with determination and concern that Sirius could not stomach at the moment.  It made him want to scream, want to flee—but there was nowhere to go now, because Remus was between him and the door.  _Note to self_, he thought angrily.  _Next time pick a hiding place with more than one exit._  There were students on the lawn participating in Madam Hooch's first flying lesson, and he tried to concentrate on them.  _Leave me alone.  _He just needed to work his way through the memories again.  It wasn't something that he had no experience with, after all.  _Anything but this._  Was that Longbottom's cousin up there on the broom?  If so, he certainly looked more confident than the accident-prone Neville.

"Sirius…"

"No."  It was his turn to use the damn word.

"Let me help you," Remus said quietly.  His voice came from very close, and Sirius knew his friend was standing right behind him, but he did not turn around.

"I don't need help."  Concentrating on the Gryffindor first years was getting harder.

"Yes, you do."

"No, I don't."  Sirius closed his eyes briefly, and memories welled up in his mind.  _Pain…screams…emptiness_—he shook his head feverishly, pushing the past away.  Again, he tried to stare at the flying lesson, tried to concentrate on anything but Remus' soft voice.

"You're not alone, Sirius."

He s snorted.  "I've dealt with this by myself for fourteen years, Remus," Sirius snapped.  "I think I can manage to do the same now."

"And you can't tell me that you didn't relive what happened every time a Dementor came near you," his friend whispered, making Sirius swallow.  _And I'd rather not _think_ about that, either_, he thought.  Suddenly, there were hands on his shoulders.  "Oh, Padfoot…I'm not doubting your strength.  Sometimes I wonder if you're not too strong…but you don't have to be.  You don't have to face this alone."

The gentle compassion in Remus' voice threw him off balance again.  It was so hard to be bitter in the face of such caring… He took a deep breath and let the air out again.  Sirius understood why Remus had to worry about him and why Dumbledore had to ask.  They had to be sure that he was all right.  They had to make sure that his demons wouldn't raise their heads at any ugly moments, dooming anyone who depended upon Sirius at that time—but he was convinced that if he could just push through it, he'd be all right.  It was all a question of not _letting _his experiences bother him, of putting the past aside.  

"I'll be all right, Remus," Sirius said softly.  "Really, I will.  It doesn't usually bother me at all…I just need a little bit of time to myself.  I'm not going to crack under pressure."

"Do you think that's what I'm worried about?" Lupin asked with surprise.  It was the same kind of voice Remus had used back in school when he'd felt one of them had missed the innately obvious and was simply being stupid.

Sirius shrugged.  "You ought to be."

 "Well, I'm not.  And neither is Dumbledore.  We both know how strong you are."  The hands tightened on his shoulders.  "What I'm worried about is _you_, Sirius.   I know you can function normally.  I know you can fight.  But I don't want you to have to carry around this pain for the rest of your life.  You shouldn't have to push through it.  Not alone.  That's what friends are for, remember?  The good times, as well as the bad."

Sirius closed his eyes again.  Friendship he could handle, but his bald-faced and open compassion was hard.  It had been a piece of their youth that twelve years of separation had erased…but now all the walls between them were crashing down.  Finally, he whispered, "Not fair."

"What?"  He could hear Remus' frown.

"Using my words against me," he replied, swallowing.  And so Remus had—used the very same words that Sirius had turned on him, so many years ago… The words a twelve-year-old boy had spoken to a distraught friend, trying to convince Remus Lupin that they didn't care about him being a werewolf.  That _friends _didn't care.  _The good times as well as the bad…and that family isn't defined by blood…_ Suddenly, it was hard to breathe.  The memories were stronger now, but they weren't just of his time in Azkaban.  Remus' words had brought back the good times, the years of friendship between four boys who thought they could conquer the world so long as they were together—the Marauders.  Blood Brothers.

"Oh, Sirius…" Remus' arms wrapped around him from behind, and his friend whispered in his ear.  "Let it out."

Hot tears rose, and he didn't fight them.  Instead, leaned back in Remus' embrace, remembering times in the Shrieking Shack, when three friends had snuck down to see Remus in the days before they were animagi.  He remembered holding Remus after the painful transformations, because he couldn't bear to see his friend in pain, because they were _brothers_, and that was all that mattered.  He remembered days of blind trust before Azkaban had burned that ability out of him, and before Peter… That hurt.  He hated him, but that hurt.  And he had convinced James and Lily to switch to Peter, convinced them to trust a traitor… His lips moved before he could stop them.

"Sometimes I wondered if I deserved it," Sirius whispered.

"Because of James and Lily."  Remus knew.  His tone told Sirius that he did not agree, but he knew.  He would.  

"Yes…Because of James and Lily…because of—Peter."  It was still hard to say his name.  In spite of everything, Sirius did not want to associate his friend with Voldemort's servant, his spy.  It was easier to believe that Peter was dead, replaced by Wormtail, who he could hate.  Who he hadn't loved as a brother.  "And because of Harry…if I'd have been a little smarter, or a little faster, he'd never have had the life he has…never had to live with those awful people.  I'd have died to save James and Lily.  Sometimes I still wish I had."

Remus' arms tightened around him.  "You know it's not your fault, don't you?"

"Mostly.  Now, anyway.  But that's what I thought about when they tortured me.  I thought about James and Lily and Harry, and the life he'd never have.  And I thought about how you were going to be left without friends and without knowing the truth."

"You didn't deserve to be tortured."

"I know…it was just hard to think that way at the time, especially with the Dementors around, sucking all the good thoughts out of me.  All I could think about was the fact that James and Lily were dead, and the pain my actions had caused you and Harry…" Sirius trailed off.  He couldn't define all of what he'd felt, couldn't describe how the torture and the Dementors magnified his guilty feelings.  Nor did he want to think about how betrayed he had felt when Crouch and Fudge had refused to give him a trial, or how men and women he had thought of as friends had stood by and watched him suffer, thinking he deserved it.  Thinking that he was evil.

"Why didn't you die, Sirius?" Remus suddenly asked, almost reading his thoughts.

He shrugged again.  "They wanted a confession, not to kill me."

"That doesn't mean you couldn't have died," his friend pointed out gently.  "And I have a feeling you came a lot closer to death than you were willing to say, especially in front of Harry."

"True."  His tears had stopped, but Remus had still not released him.  Truth be told, Sirius was glad his friend hadn't; he had forgotten what it was like to be held.  Sirius had reached out to Harry because he loved the boy and someone needed to, but he had forgotten what it was like to have someone reach out to him.  They stood together for several minutes in silence, and Sirius was content to remain that way.  For so long, it had seemed as if the close brotherhood of his youth had only been a dream—he and Remus had resumed a solid friendship, and had enjoyed one another's company and trusted each other, but this was different.  This proved to him that the world wasn't the dark place his Azkaban memories kept trying to convince him it was.

"I didn't want to die," he finally answered Remus' question.  "Maybe I'm stupid, and maybe I'm too stubborn for my own good, but I wasn't going to die for something I hadn't done.  I knew I was innocent, and even though I hated the mistakes I had made, I didn't want to die for them…I wanted to fix it.  I wanted a second chance."

"And now you have it."

"Thanks to you," Sirius replied honestly.  "You believed me, that night in the Shrieking Shack, when you should have done nothing of the sort.  You trusted me.  I'm sorry I repaid your trust by locking you out…I just want to move on."

"You have, Padfoot," his friend said.  "Just remember that I'm here when it gets too hard to do alone."

Emotion threatened to choke him.  "Thanks."  Maybe it helped to talk, or maybe his self-control had simply reasserted itself, but Sirius did feel better.  In fact, he felt freer than he had in a long time.  Smiling slightly, he turned to face his friend.  "You know, it _does _figure."

"What?" Remus stared at him like he'd lost his mind, thrown by the sudden change of subject.

 "You and I, all the trouble we've gotten in and out of together.  It figures that your Patronus would have turned out to be a dog…and mine a wolf.  I guess some things don't change, do they, Moony?"  He threw an arm over his friend's shoulder, only partially surprised that he didn't have to feign feeling better.  Sirius grinned.  "Let's go, Moony.  I'm late for class."

Fred and George Weasley were reaching for the door when it opened on top of them.  The twins jumped, and so did the rest of their classmates, because after twenty minutes of waiting, the Gryffindor seventh years had decided that class must have been canceled and Professor Black just wasn't going to show up.  After that morning's _Daily Prophet _article, he certainly had a good enough reason to take a day or two off.  Usually, though, Professor Lupin would cover for him, but the History professor was nowhere to be found, either.   After exchanging theories and waiting for twenty minutes—which was nineteen minutes and thirty seconds longer than they would have waited for any other professor—the Weasleys and their classmates had decided to call it quits.

They'd headed for the door with a little disappointment; far from making them like Professor Black less, the article had made them respect him even more.  No one could agree upon which was more impressive—Sirius' past or his actions from the day before—but all of them agreed that it was spectacular.  The girls, of course, much to Fred and George's annoyance, oohed and ahhed over his _tragic _past, and gushed on and on over how strong he had to be to overcome it.  _Girls!  Did they ever quit?_  Neither of the twins would argue with their points, but they neither of them was about to go on about how _handsome_ and _single_ Professor Black was at the same time.  It was sickening!  And that, at least, they were glad to escape.

So when the door admitted their wayward Dark Arts professor, the class could not have been more surprised.  Professor Black stopped in the entranceway, surveying the situation, and then smiled mischievously.  "Thought you were getting out of class, did you?"

No one answered.  Fred glanced over at his brother curiously, but George only shrugged.  They actually didn't mind Defense Against the Dark Arts as a class—hell, it was their favorite class, after all, even though it was a bit disconcerting to know that their professor was even more of a professional prankster than they were, and thus would catch them before they even finished _thinking _of a joke.  Contrary to their reputation, though, Fred and George actually did respect Professor Black for more than his pranking skills.  And it was even cooler knowing that they were learning from a hero.

Any other professor would have been shocked to see that the Weasley twins were the first to return to their seats.  Black only smiled slightly and moved to the front of the room, sitting on the desk as had become his habit.

"I apologize for being late to class and am pleased to see that you all decided to stick around…for awhile, anyway."  The blue eyes twinkled.  "Fifty points to Gryffindor for patience and persistence."

Fred looked at George with a grin.  For once, they'd actually helped _gain _points for their House instead of losing them!  Had it been in any other class, they might have felt ashamed, but this was different.  Even the Weasley twins understood that they would need these skills someday…especially if they followed through on the career paths they both were contemplating.  _If Mum doesn't kill us first_, Fred thought to himself, but returned his attention to class as Professor Black continued.

"As you know, today we're going to concentrate on the Cruciatus curse.  Now, I realize that you received a thorough grounding in the Unforgivable Curses last year—even if the source was a bit suspect—what I am going to teach you isn't something that you would normally learn in class.  However, the headmaster and I have agreed that it's something you need to be aware of, especially given recent events.  So, we'll begin with the basic proprieties of the Cruciatus curse.  Katie?"

Katie Bell grimaced slightly, but replied promptly.  "It's the torture curse," she said.  "Professor Moody—or the imposter, anyway—showed it to us last year with a spider.  It's awful."

Black nodded.  "Yes, it is," he agreed.  "The Cruciatus curse acts on every nerve ending in your body, on every bone and muscle you have.  Even a few seconds of exposure to this curse have a lasting effect; usually it takes around twenty-four hours for the pain to fade.  There is an antidote that dims the pain, but even that cannot take all of it away.   The longer one is held under the curse, of course, the worse the effects are, and prolonged exposure to the Cruciatus curse can cause insanity, or in extreme cases, death."  Fred shivered.

"This curse is very popular with Death Eaters, both for its ability to cause incredible pain and the fear derived from its use.  Most witches and wizards are willing to do a great deal to avoid being subjected to it, so the curse is very useful for intimidation.  Having experienced it once, many are willing to do _anything_ to avoid a second experience.  I imagine that the spider you saw writhed and twitched, having no control over its body, correct?" The class nodded, and Black's voice turned cool.  "Imagine that in a human being who can scream."

In many ways, Professor Black's calm approach to the curse was unnerving, but Fred was actually grateful for it.  At least he told the truth, which many professors would not—even the fake Moody had only demonstrated the curse.  He hadn't told them about it or explained what the effects were.  Fred supposed that could have been caused by the fake Moody's real identity, but that no longer mattered.  This lesson might have been a little unsettling (especially for Katie and Lee, judging from the looks on their faces), but at least it would be important.  And it sure was interesting.  Professor Black paused for a moment, letting his words sink in, before continuing.

"What most people don't realize is that the Cruciatus curse can be blocked," he said, making Fred's eyebrows rise.  "However, that takes a _very_ strong amount of magic, and huge degree of concentration.  Most Aurors never master the ability to do so, and even then, you can't block the curse if you're surprised by it.  But the fact that the Cruciatus curse can be blocked ought to tell you something.  Would anyone like to guess what?"

Tentatively, Fred raised a hand and waited for a nod before answering.  "It's not impenetrable?" he guessed.  "I mean, it's not like the killing curse, which can't be stopped.  Maybe it can be interrupted?"

"You're partially correct, Fred, but that was a good guess," the former Auror replied with a nod.  "Unfortunately, stopping the Cruciatus curse takes just as much concentration and power as blocking the curse does.

"But there is an easier way.  While it's very hard to block or stop the Cruciatus curse, it is possible to work _through _it.  This doesn't occur to most people simply because it is very hard to think at all under the influence of the Cruciatus curse, but it can be fought.  Therefore, Fred is correct in that the curse can be disrupted—if you take out the caster.  People tend to get overconfident when using the Unforgivables, and for good reason.  Most witches and wizards never think to fight once they're hit with one of them.  If you keep your head, even simple spells can disable the caster, because it's likely he's not paying much attention to anything but causing you pain.  His defenses are going to be weak at best, and you can win if you take advantage of that."

Lee Jordan raised a hand.  "How, sir?"

"Concentration.  Sheer determination."  Black's eyes swept over them.  "And most importantly, _do not let go of your wand_.  I can't stress that enough."

"But you said it's hard to think through the Cruciatus curse," George objected.

"Hard, but not impossible.  The simpler of a spell you try, the more likely you are to succeed.  Stick with something you know well.  And don't try disarmament.   That usually fails."

Fred frowned.  The Disarming Charm was one of the simplest dueling spells once you got used to using it.  Even Lockhart knew how to do it.  "Why would it fail, Professor?" 

"The Cruciatus curse isn't like most spells," Black replied.  "The length it lasts depends upon how long the caster keeps his wand centered on his victim, which causes his concentration to remain on that wand."  The professor smiled slightly.  "Trust me, it doesn't work.  I tried in Auror training and failed miserably."

"Do they actually _use _that curse against Aurors?" Katie gasped.  "That's horrible!"

Sirius Black shrugged.  "Unfortunately, that is the best way to learn," he responded.  "It is a method, however, I will _not_ be using with you—you need to learn the concepts, not gain practical experience with the Cruciatus curse."

"Do you know how to use it, Professor?" Alicia Spinnet asked in a quiet voice.

"Aurors are trained in the Unforgivables, yes," their instructor said.  "So I have used the Cruciatus curse.  In practice; never against Death Eaters."

"If you don't mind me asking, Professor, why not?" Fred wondered.  He couldn't help it.  Aurors were _interesting_.  Much more than anything else they'd ever learned in Defense Against the Dark Arts, and he'd accumulated a million questions that he'd wanted to ask the fake Moody last year, but had never been given the chance.  This was an opportunity that he just didn't want to let slip away.

"Well, the Cruciatus curse is pretty useless for causing anything except pain and terror, neither of which is something I've ever considered a useful tool.  I have used the Imperius Curse against suspects, but only in extreme circumstances."  His eyes grew serious.  "Dark Magic isn't something that is good to get accustomed to using, kids.  Once you start, it's not easy to stop."

There was a long silence as his words sank in.  Fred knew, from talking to his father, that the Ministry had once authorized Aurors to use the Unforgivables against Death Eaters, even the killing curse, but Sirius seemed to disagree with that.  The point he'd made about Dark Magic being addictive was interesting, too, because Fred had never thought of it that way.  However, he supposed that was why Death Eaters never came back to the light.  Perhaps they started to like it too much.  Suddenly, George asked the question that had risen in his mind.

"What's different about Dark Magic, sir?"

"Intent, mostly," Black replied.  "And what it does to the user in the end."  The class looked at him curiously, so he continued.  "That's a very good question, George, but not one I'm exactly qualified to answer.  However, next class we will have a guest speaker who will explain the effects Dark Magic has on an individual."

"A guest speaker?" Lee asked.

"Who?" Angelina wondered at the same time, prompting a slight smile from Professor Black.

"You will have to wait until next time to find out," he replied.  "But I will tell you this: he is a former Death Eater."

"Former?" half the class gasped.

"Indeed," Black confirmed, glancing at the time.  "Now, we still have some time left, but it's not enough to get into another subject.  So unless you have any questions, I'll let you out early."  

In any other class, Fred and George would have already flown out the door if given that offer, but here, Fred stayed glued to his seat and noticed that his twin had done the same.  No one else moved, either, but it took several moments for any of the students to work up the guts to ask the question they'd been discussing amongst themselves before class.  Finally, it was George who spoke.

"Sir, can you tell us about the Lestrange Incident?" he asked.  "They mentioned it in the _Daily Prophet_, but none of us are really old enough to remember it."

The entire class waited with baited breath as Black thought the answer over.  "You realize, George, that the 'Lestrange Incident', as the papers have always insisted on calling that disaster, is not a very good example of anything, unless it's a lesson on how many things can go wrong in a very short period of time."  The professor looked around at the dejected expressions his words had caused.  "All right, then," he relented.  "I suppose I'll get no peace until I tell you, so I might as well get it over with."

Fred grinned.  George looked ready to sing.  And even Angelina looked entranced.  Professor Black sighed and began.

"The Lestranges are a married couple.  They were both in their fifth year when I came to Hogwarts, and both in Slytherin.  By the time I graduated, they were two of Voldemort's most faithful supporters, and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement had been trying to prove that they were Death Eaters for years.  Finally, about six months after I graduated from Auror training, we were given the go-ahead for their arrest.  However, two of the Aurors assigned to bring them in were killed the day before the arrest was set to take place, so the DMLE ended up sending only three Aurors.  Out of the three of us, only Kevin Hornby was a veteran; I'd only been in the field for six months, and Amy Macintyre was a rookie straight out of training.

"Things fell apart pretty quickly after we got there.  Amy got separated from Kevin and I almost immediately, mostly due to her inexperience, and when the Lestranges came out firing curses in every direction, she got caught out in the open.  One of them hit her with the Cruciatus curse, which the other followed by Avada Kedavra before anyone could react.  She never had a chance.

"The Lestranges biggest advantage was that they worked seamlessly as a team. While Kevin was good, he and I didn't know one another very well because we weren't usually partners and our styles could not have been more different.  We'd taken cover when we'd failed to surprise the Lestranges, and he was convinced that we should stay there and wait for the right moment.  I disagreed, but he had the experience, and we stayed put.  That turned into a very bad idea; the Lestranges split up and came at us from two different directions, which forced us to fight back to back.  That robs you of mobility, which is an extremely bad thing to happen when you're dealing with people who are willing to use the one unblockable curse. 

"Kevin was convinced that we could win in a classic dueling situation, though, and for a few minutes, we held our own in a stalemate.  But for some reason, his shield cracked, and a stunning spell got through and hit both of us because we were so close.  After passing through his shield, the curse wasn't strong enough to knock either of us out, but it did slow us down, and I lost my shield in the process.  Both Death Eaters took advantage of this and used the Cruciatus curse, which wrecked havoc with our defenses.  Once they judged that we were suitably distracted, both tried the Imperious Curse.  It worked with Kevin, but I was able to fight it off.

"Events started going to hell right then.  They tried to turn Kevin on me, which, given our closeness, worked very well.  All three of them hit me with the Cruciatus curse again, and I had to move, even though I didn't want to leave Kevin.  I managed to shock one of them and tried for the one who was controlling Kevin, but I only managed to blow up some poor bastard's automobile.  The next time I tried, I did hit him, but his wife killed Kevin even as I managed to knock the Imperious curse aside."  Black paused, frowning slightly, but Fred could hardly wait to hear what happened next.

"How did you take out both of them by yourself, sir?" he asked breathlessly.

"A giant game of cat and mouse."  Professor Black snorted.  "I don't duel traditionally.  I move around a lot, and I also tend to throw things—and people.  Most Death Eaters can't concentrate when they're being flung into the air or hit by a flying mailbox"—the class snickered—"so I take advantage of that.  My only problem was that there were two of them, so I had to take some lesser hits to avoid the bigger ones.  Eventually, though, I won."

"Wow," George whispered, and Fred found himself and the rest of the class nodding in agreement.  He opened his mouth to ask for details on exactly _how _Black had managed to defeat two Death Eaters by himself, but suddenly, the door burst open.

"What the—"

It was Professor Lupin, looking graver and more worried than any of the students had seen him before.  Immediately, Professor Black was off the desk and on his feet, looking closely at his friend.  Lupin spoke, still striding forward quickly.  "We've got a problem, Sirius."

"What is it?"

"Arabella Figg is here," Lupin replied, his face tight.  "She was attacked by Death Eaters last night, and barely escaped.  Since then, she has tried to contact Fletcher and Moody, but neither has responded.  When she Apparated to their houses, she found the Dark Mark at both."

"Alastor and Mundy?  Dead?"  Professor Black swallowed, and shock played briefly over his face, but then he blinked and his features went hard.  "It's begun."

----------------------

**Author's Note:   Well, as you've guessed, this was the eye of the storm—look for "Nightfall" coming next, and stay tuned for Dumbledore throwing down the gauntlet, dreams of the future, and an interesting encounter between a former student (won't tell you who!) and everyone's favorite potions master.  Thanks for reading, and please review!**

**Oh—one last thing.  Many of you have asked if Mad-Eye Moody was one of the Aurors involved in Sirius' past, and all I can say is that is another story…which happens to be entitled "Silent Leges Inter Arma" (In Time of War, the Laws are Silent), and is in the process of being written right now.  So, don't despair—the answers do exist, even though I won't tell you right now.  Thanks again.  Please R&R!**


	20. Nightfall

**DEATH BEFORE DISHONOR**

Chapter Nineteen: Nightfall 

"Ladies and Gentlemen, I thank you for coming to Hogwarts."

There was silence.  Complete and utter silence; it would have been engrossing even if the tension in the room not been so high.  As things stood, it was frightening, and the gathered reporters hardly dared to move.  They only stared at the regal old man standing upon the Great Hall's raised platform, barely daring to hope that he might have all of the answers.  The tables had been swept aside for this press conference, and chairs had been placed on the floor to accommodate the guests, but the empty row in the front signified that the number of attendees had fallen short of expectations.  Those seated behind this empty row held their breaths together, waiting for confirmation of the worst—or to learn that this had all been a dream, and the world was not really plunging back into war.  Together, they prayed that the dark days had not returned.

"There is much to be said, but I fear we have little time," Albus Dumbledore finally continued.  "What I must begin with, though, is the truth, and that is something that the public has been denied for far too long.

"Lord Voldemort has returned."

A gasp ran through the Great Hall.  Some had suspected, and others had wondered, but none had wanted to believe.  They had prayed this moment would never come.  They had hoped that he was truly gone.  Despite the recent attacks, all had wanted desperately to know that their children would never suffer through the same terrors and bloodbaths that they remembered all too well.

"Aided by loyal followers, Voldemort was resurrected on June 24th of this year.  Certain members of the Ministry were notified, but they chose to keep quiet and refused to believe what had happened.  Since that time, the Dark Lord has been gathering supporters to his side once more.  Attacks by Death Eaters have increased to a level they have not seen since the end of the last war, and many have suffered because they did not know the truth.  But now things have become even worse.  Four days ago, Voldemort destroyed the Beauxbatons Academy.  Yesterday, he attacked our own Ministry of Magic.  And last night, he gained control of the Azkaban Fortress, bringing the Dementors to his side.

"We have also confirmed at least six separate Death Eater attacks that took place during the night, every one targeting a former or current Auror.  I regret now to inform you of the deaths of Alastor Moody, Mundungus Fletcher, Amanda Bundy, and Eve and Malcolm Wood.  Arabella Figg was the only one able to escape her attackers, and has only done so with grievous personal injury.  I am afraid, however, that we have no time to mourn those who have been so cruelly taken from us.  These attacks make one thing very clear: Voldemort will stop at nothing to regain his old power.  We are at war again."

Dumbledore paused, his eyes sweeping over the crowd.  Everyone now understood the row of empty seats: they represented the missing Aurors, men and women who would have been on the forefront of the fight against Darkness, but who were no longer alive to help.  Still, though, there were no questions; the gathered press was still praying that Dumbledore could provide an answer.  They hoped there was more than bad news, and several let out audible sighs of relief as the headmaster began to speak once more.

"There is one other thing you must understand.  I come before you today without the Ministry of Magic's consent.  There are those who still wish to doubt the facts laid before them, and those men would willingly keep the truth from you.  In the past, I have acquiesced to the Ministry's wishes, but I can do so no longer.  The world deserves to know.  We are at war, and we are only as strong as we are united.  Behind me stands the Order of the Phoenix, witches and witches who have dedicated their lives to opposing Voldemort.  We stand together, and we will fight.

"Today I call for support in the battle against the Dark Lord.  I firmly believe that all is not lost, and we can win this war, but only if we stand together.  The Ministry may have decided to abandon you, but I will not.  Today, I intend to bring the war back to Voldemort."

Witches and wizards started arriving within an hour after Dumbledore's announcement had gone out on the WNN.  Some left again almost immediately, having shown up to either confirm their support for the Headmaster or to receive instructions of some sort or another.  Others, however, remained longer, and it wasn't long before Harry found himself surrounded by the entire Weasley family—Ron had dragged him and Hermione along, claiming that he couldn't face his mother alone.  They'd laughed, and accompanied him; besides, Harry was always glad to see his best friend's family again, even though it meant enduring the same barrage of questions as Ron did, just so Mrs. Weasley could make sure they really were all right.

Laughing, Ron replied, "Really, Mum, we haven't gotten into much trouble this year at all!  The worst of it was Fred and George, who almost got into a prank war with Professor Lupin and Professor Black, but other than that, even _they _haven't done anything."

Molly Weasley turned on her twins, eyebrows high.  "I'm beginning to worry about you two," she said.  "I haven't gotten nearly as many owls about you as I usually do."

"Well, Mum," Fred began with a grin, "we could say that we've simply been outclassed by the superior prank-making skills of Professor Black—"

"Since neither of us is, after all, an illegal animagus who can chase Professor McGonagall around the castle—" George added.

Fred smiled.  "But the truth is, we've been studying."

"Studying?" Arthur Weasley looked strangely at his sons.

"The two of you?" Mrs. Weasley demanded.  Clearly, she was suspicious, but Harry had noticed that the twins had been abnormally subdued all term long—and strangely shut up in books, too.

"Well, we're not stupid, Mum," George replied.  "And we do realize that we have to pass our N.E.W.T.s this year."

"After all, although opening a joke shop would be fun, this isn't the right time," Fred concluded, making everyone else in the room stare at him.  Confused, Harry pulled off his glasses and wiped them off on his robes before putting them back on.  Was this really Fred and George Weasley talking?  Had they gone mad?

"So we're studying," George continued into the silence.  "We'll never make you another pair of Head Boys, Mum—"

"It's too late for that, anyway," Fred interjected.

"But we're not going to waste our brains, either."

"Besides, we _have _to score well on our N.E.W.T.s."

Mrs. Weasley stared at them as if she expected one of them to burst out laughing any second.  But neither twin did any such thing; in fact, to Harry's eyes, they seemed more serious than they'd ever been about anything (not that he'd ever really seen the twins serious before, but he could imagine).  They looked back at their mother calmly, waiting for her to say something.  But it was Ginny who spoke.

"Why do you _have _to do well on your N.E.W.T.s?" she asked.  "You've never cared before."

"That was before we looked at the DMLE guidelines," Fred replied promptly.

"The what?" Ginny asked.

"The Department of Magical Law Enforcement," George answered with a serious expression.  "We want to be Aurors."

All five adult Weasleys in the room exploded, especially Percy and Mrs. Weasley.  Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, on the other hand, just stared at the twins, unable to believe their ears.  Fred and George as _Aurors_?  Impossible…or was it?  They had been paying an awful lot of attention to Defense Against the Dark Arts this year, but Harry had thought that was only because they respected Sirius as a prankster.  He'd thought they might be afraid that Sirius would try something drastic to get their attention…but maybe not.  They definitely _looked _serious.__

"You cannot be serious," Percy finally managed to say, right as Mrs. Weasley asked,

"Do you know how _dangerous_ that is?"

"So's living, Mum."  Fred shrugged.

"Be realistic about this, you two!"

"We are, Mum," George answered.

Mr. Weasley cut his wife off by placing a hand on her shoulder.  "It's their choice, Molly," he said quietly.  Mrs. Weasley looked as if she was going to say more, but she nodded reluctantly.

"I hope you know what you're getting into, boys," she said quietly, sighing.  "Well, Ginny, why don't you tell us about _your _year…"

That night, they knew sleep would not come easily.  Although happy to see the Weasleys, who would be staying at the school for a few weeks (except for Mr. Weasley who was going to return to the Ministry and see who would openly support Dumbledore there), Harry had also seen Mrs. Figg.  It was odd to think of his long time neighbor as a witch, but ever since the day Voldemort had risen, Harry had wondered if "Arabella Figg" was the same woman who lived on Privet Drive and baby-sat him from time to time for the Dursleys.  One look at her had told him that he was right, even though the steely-eyed woman he meet at Hogwarts resembled his cat-loving neighbor in very few ways.  The ugly purple bruise on her face made her seem even more foreign, and although she had smiled at him, Mrs. Figg had a haunted and pained look to her that Harry had never seen from her before.

Even though he didn't want to admit it, that spooked him.  The thought of Death Eaters invading Privet Drive was almost more than he could bear—and he couldn't help but wondering if the Dursleys were all right.   He hated them with every fiber in his body, but the Dursleys, as horrible as they treated them, were his family.  Sometimes, Harry wondered if Voldemort would target them simply because the Dursleys were his kin, and that thought worried him.  Even the Dursleys didn't deserve to die just because Voldemort hated him… Harry pushed the thought out of his mind as Ron spoke.

"Geez…" his friend mumbled.  "Can you believe the woman?  I hope she doesn't react like that when I say the same thing in a few years."

Harry rolled over to face Ron.  "Are you still thinking about it, then?"

"Yeah.  You?"

"Definitely," Harry replied.

"Have you talked to Sirius about it yet?" Ron asked.

 "No, not yet."  It should have been simple to talk to his godfather about becoming an Auror—which was something he and Ron had actually been discussing since the year before—but he kept on finding reasons to put the conversation off.  The problem wasn't trusting Sirius with his dreams—it was more the fact that Sirius _was_ an Auror.  Or had been, anyway, and he seemed to be doing awfully Auror-like things lately, too.  What would Sirius say?  Would he help Harry, or try to talk him out of it?  Harry sighed.  "I'm not sure what he'll say."

"You'll never know until you try."

Harry snorted.  "Well, if you want to look at it that way, Ron, you ought to go tell your Mum right now and get it over with."

"No thanks," Ron grunted.  "I'll wait."

"Me, too…for at least awhile," Harry admitted.  "Besides, who knows what will happen?  The war could end tomorrow."

"Not likely."

"True.  But by the time we graduate, maybe Voldemort will be gone," Harry said wistfully.  "I'd gladly pick something else to do with my life if that meant he was defeated."

"Yeah," Ron agreed.  "You know, you could always do something else.  You don't have to fight him, Harry.  You've certainly done your part all ready.  Why not just play Quidditch professionally?  You're good enough, you know."

Harry shifted uncomfortably.  "I just feel I have to, Ron," he said quietly.  "I feel like I have to.  And I'm sick of having people protect me.  I want to _do _something."

"Tell me about it."

Others also found it hard to sleep.

Footsteps ringing loudly as he went, Percy Weasley roamed the halls of a school he once dreaded but had come to love.  His years at Hogwarts had become the best of his life, and it was hard to imagine that the school might be in danger.  That it might someday cease to exist.  It was hard to think that Hogwarts was the last bastion of defense against Voldemort, and yet still remember the castle as a place of so many happy memories.  The danger of the present and the carefree nature of the past just did not jell.  The memories were still too recent.

He could still look around the hallways and think, _That's where Penelope and I met_, or _That's the girl's bathroom that I caught Ron in once (I still wonder what trouble he was getting into in there.  I'm sure it was something stupid)_… Before the Dark Lord had risen again, Percy had been on track for a perfect life, just like he had always dreamed of.  He had a good job—heck, it was a great job, a place in the world where he could make a difference.  He had a great girl—she was beyond great, really, but there weren't proper words in the English language to describe Penelope.  And he had a wonderful and loving family, too, even if they could all be a bit much at times.  All in all, it could have been perfect—if not for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.  Because of him, they were at war.  People were dying, and the Ministry might as well have been destroyed.  Had his future gone down with it?

"I would hardly be prowling around the castle at night if I were you, Mr. Weasley," a soft voice suddenly purred from close behind him.

Percy jumped and wheeled around, startled.  "Professor Snape!"  Then he forced steel into his voice.  After all, he was hardly a student anymore.  "I could say the same about you."

Snape snorted.  "Unlike you, young man, I happen to be a professor at this school."

"One who even the students know has an _unnatural _fascination with the Dark Arts," Percy shot back.  Snape had always given him the creeps, had always angered him by favoring Slytherin even when Gryffindor did everything right—maybe it was childish, but it felt good to stand up to the slimy Potions master.

"Unnatural?" Snape repeated casually.  "I would hardly think so.  I have, in fact, very little liking for the Dark Arts—I simply have _much _knowledge in the field."

Percy stared.  Was Snape saying what he thought he was?  He replied, trying to keep his voice from wavering, "I would hardly call that a good thing."

"I find myself, Weasley, in agreement with you on that point," the Potions master replied with a slight sneer.  His slimy voice still gave Percy the chills.  "However surprising that may be.  Regardless, this is hardly the time for you to be wandering around the castle.  I suggest you return to bed."

"And why should I?" Percy challenged.  He was an _adult_.  There were no rules against him wandering around, no matter what time it was.  He was a guest in the castle.  He didn't have to listen to Snape anymore.

"It's midnight."  Snape's eyebrows rose slightly, and his dark eyes glittered.  "Hardly an auspicious hour, wouldn't you say?  Midnight…" he purred.  "The time the Death Eaters come out to play."

"Not at Hogwarts."  Percy was dismayed to find his voice shaking.  The look Snape was giving him was highly unnerving.  _He can't be saying… _The former Head Boy gulped.  _But it all fits, doesn't it?_  Percy tensed, glancing around the empty corridor, but his wanderings had taken him far from any safe havens, and Snape was still staring menacingly at him.

One eyebrow rose further than the other.  "Not yet."

"What do you mean, yet?" He wished his voice wouldn't tremble so.  _But what if Snape is a Death Eater?_ He had to get to Dumbledore, had to let him know…

"Traumatizing the children again, Severus?" Another voice came from the direction Percy had previously been heading, which was now behind him.  This one was lighter than Snape's, and held a trace of mockery that Percy could not recognize.  Curious, he turned to face a man around Professor Snape's age.  The other's hair was as black as the Potions master's, but his was fuller and cleaner, and his eyes were a pale color of blue.  A moment passed before Percy recognized the face from the front page of so many issues of the _Daily Prophet_, and he gave a slight start.  Even though he knew Sirius Black was innocent, it was a bit unsettling to see the wizard for the first time.

"Black," Snape growled.  _Well, they don't seem to get along, do they?_

But the other wizard's eyes were on him.  Black held out a hand.  "You must be Percy Weasley," he said politely.  "I am Sirius Black."

Percy took the offered hand warily; it was hard to decide what to think of the young looking man before him.  On one hand, there was the professor who his younger siblings couldn't stop prattling on about, and on the other, there the only convict to ever escape Azkaban and elude the Ministry for two years.  Then there was the former Auror who all the papers had suddenly decided was a hero.  The handshake was strong but brief, and told him very little about the man.  Percy remembered himself soon enough to reply, "Nice to meet you."

"I'm sure."  A slight smile flickered on the other's face, and Percy suddenly got a feeling that this was one professor even Fred and George couldn't fool.  _Serves them right_.  But Black turned to Snape once more, continuing, "Couldn't sleep?"

"You would know," the Potions professor snapped.

Black's eyes flashed, and Percy saw him struggle with temper for a moment.  His reply was soft and very controlled.  "That was low."

"I apologize." Snape grimaced, but he seemed to mean it.  "And yes, it has been a rough night, if you must know."

"It's burning again, isn't it?"

"It's a fucking cancer," Snape cursed, taking Percy aback with the emotion in his voice.  "It doesn't stop.  This is going to drive me insane."

"Have you known anything like this to happen before?" Black wondered thoughtfully.  Snape only snorted irritably, though.  "I mean, has it happened with any other Death Eaters who have left the fold?"

"None of them have lived as long as I have," Snape snarled.  "Nobody's had the chance to find out."

Percy stared.  _Oh my god…_ Had he just heard what he thought he had?

"Anyway," Snape continued.  "I was looking for Albus.  Do you have any idea where he is?  He's not in his office."

"Staff room.  With Fudge."  Black's sardonic smile was filled with distaste.

The Potions master rolled his eyes.  "I still can't believe you saved him," he commented.  "What a waste."

"Perhaps."  Black grinned wolfishly, and Snape turned to go, calling over his shoulder,

"No one ever said you were smart, Black."

"And no one ever said you were nice."

Snape swept around a corner, leaving Percy alone with Sirius Black.  The young man looked at Hogwarts' newest professor uneasily, unsure if he should go or not—Snape, after all, had been rather insistent that he should be in bed.  However, he found himself coming dangerously close to staring at the older man rudely.  Percy couldn't help it; he was curious.  All Fred and George had talked about, when he'd cornered them after they admitted wanting to become Aurors, had been Professor Black this, and Professor Black that.  Now, while Percy knew his brothers well, he had _never _seen them idolize a professor, not even the false Moody.  Eventually, even the "way cool" one-legged imposter had gotten old for the twins. 

Yet they wouldn't shut up about the former Auror who had become the latest in a string of Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Percy couldn't help being curious.

But before he could ask, the left side of Black's robes began to move, and the professor swore (rather foully, in fact) as he grabbed his wand from inside his robes.  It was dancing something madly.  Without warning, Black bolted back three steps and through a door—which Percy belatedly recognized as the one to his office, which was where he must have come from earlier—and leaving it open behind him.  Knowing that he probably shouldn't, Percy peeked through the door as Black chucked a handful of powder into his office fireplace with one hand and grabbed a piece of parchment in the other.

"Remus!"

A split second later, Professor Lupin tumbled out of the fireplace, speaking before he'd even finished rolling to his feet.  "Which one is it, Sirius?"

"Hogsmeade."  Black was studying the parchment, his wand still twitching in his hand.  After a second glance, Percy realized that Lupin's wand, which he held carefully in hand, was shaking as well.

"Shit."  Percy had never heard Professor Lupin swear.

Black's head snapped up, his eyes frighteningly intense.  "Get Severus and Arabella," he said quickly.  "I'll meet you in the Great Hall—and whatever he says, Dumbledore stays here.  If this is some sort of distraction, we can't afford him being away from Hogwarts."

Without a word, Lupin vanished back into the fire.  Percy stared at Black, unnerved by the intense power that radiated from the former Auror, but was still finally unable to contain himself.  "Excuse me, but what's happening with Hogsmeade?"

"It's under attack."  Those frightening eyes zeroed in on him.

"Can I do anything?"  He didn't know why he asked.  The question had just come out.

Fleetingly, Black smiled.  Then he was in motion, gliding forward with long and purposeful strides.  In the doorway, he paused.  "You'd only get yourself killed, kid," he said evenly.  "You're not trained for this."

----------------------

**Author's Note:   Here it goes… In case you haven't noticed, the Eye of the Storm is the calm part right in the middle—the nice moment right before everything goes straight to hell.  Thanks for reading, and for all those who are wondering how long the story is (yes, it is finished, except for editing), it's 27 chapters, plus the prologue and the epilogue.  So that's 29 chapters overall…unless I add something, which I might.  Regardless, stay tuned for the next chapter, "Midnight", in which the Death Eaters come out to play.  Please review!**


	21. Midnight

**DEATH BEFORE DISHONOR**

Chapter Twenty: Midnight 

The Three Broomsticks had already turned into a shelter.  The front room was crammed with witches and wizards seeking haven from the sudden attack.  All those who could reach the inn had, and those unfortunates who could not would no longer be able to enter through the multitude of wards the occupants had hastily erected.  There was screaming outside, and the group of witches and wizards who had made it to the Three Broomsticks was grim.  Venturing outside would only mean death came sooner, and no one believed in the illusion of survival.  They knew what was happening.  And they knew there was no help coming.

The last thing the Three Broomsticks needed was for people to come popping out of its fireplace.  No one had thought to disconnect the Three Broomsticks from the Floo Network; these were townspeople, craftsmen, and innocents.  Most had not ever attended a formal school of magic like Hogwarts and had learned their magic through apprenticeship or experience.  They weren't trained for this.  So, it was rather understandable that people started screaming when the first man rolled out of the fireplace.  By the time Arabella emerged, they'd quieted; either calmed by Remus' reassuring words or Sirius' eerie concentration (but she doubted Snape's angry presence had anything to do with the occupants' emotional reversal).  She glanced at her surroundings quickly, noting that all the tables had been shoved to one side of the room to form a barrier between the children—_there aren't nearly enough of them here!_—and the front door.  The fireplace they'd all shot out of was behind that barrier, too.  No wonder why the people had been frightened.

She glanced at her companions, and found Remus speaking quietly to Madam Rosmerta, Sirius staring outside from between the cracks of a hastily boarded up window, and Snape conspicuously trying not to clutch at his left forearm as he paced away from the fireplace.  She wished he'd be a bit less obvious about it, but Arabella supposed that the Mark had to be burning like mad.  Although she'd never known Snape well, personally speaking, she knew plenty about the _surface_ he projected.  Once, she'd been the lead in an investigation of Severus Snape, only to have her knees cut out from under her by the Ministry with no explanation.  Only now, years later, would she understand why, and it was nice to know that Albus Dumbledore was still such a good judge of character.

It wasn't a surprise to see Sirius immediately take charge.  The kid that no one had wanted as an Auror had rocketed through the Department's ranks once his natural leadership ability had been discovered, especially given his inborn strength.  He and James Potter had been the rising stars of their generation, best friends…and both destroyed by tragedy.  Or very nearly destroyed, in Sirius' case, and Arabella had thought, until this moment, that he had been.  She'd only spoken to him briefly after her arrival, and had met a very quiet man who was busy swallowing the rush of events—an article revealing some of his past, the Dementors' newfound freedom, and Alastor's death.  Alastor, of course, had been his mentor, the one who had demanded that Sirius be allowed to enter the Auror training program—and the only one of them who could ever match the effortless power and destruction Sirius Black could bring to bear on Death Eaters.

Even Potter hadn't been like that.  Oh, in terms of sheer power, James had probably been stronger, but as an Auror, sheer power simply wasn't enough.  James had been an excellent all-around wizard.  Sirius had a flair for the Dark Arts, and for fighting them.  It was no wonder people hadn't been too surprised to hear Sirius called Voldemort's heir.  He had the power… And somewhat surprisingly, it seemed he still had the wit to use it. "Arabella?"

"Hum?" Her old friend's brightest pupil was standing in front of her.  _Oh, Alastor…where have we gone?  You're dead, yet the brilliant boy you mentored remains, while my best student lies dead._  She and Sirius had mainly known each other because of James Potter.  Her student.  His best friend.

"I want you to stay here.  Start evacuating these people to Hogwarts.  Hold while you can, but don't wait more than forty minutes for us," Sirius said briskly.  "We'll split up and see who else we can find before the Death Eaters kill them."

"Oh?" she challenged, staring the younger man down.  "It's not a bad idea, expect for wherever you get the idea that I'll be the one staying here.  I've more experience than either of these two."

Snape's dark eyebrows rose as he glanced her way.  "More experience in what?  Killing people or avoiding having Voldemort kill you?" 

"He's got you there," Remus replied lightly.  Even given the desperation of the situation, he seemed relaxed.  She barely knew Remus Lupin, but her estimation of him went up a few notches, seeing the calm on his face.

Arabella screwed up her face to reply, but Sirius beat her to it.  "No time for arguments," he said quietly.  "I'm thinking in terms of respective strengths, and _you're _best suited to saving these people.  The three of us are more used to creating problems than solving them."

"That's a very polite way to avoid mentioning that I'm old, Sirius."  She smiled.

"Never crossed my mind."  He had the good grace not to laugh.

"Sure it didn't," Arabella snorted.  _And he's right, so why beat a dead horse into the ground?  I _am _old, and I ache like hell.  Thanks, Malfoy._  "Let's get this done."

_If I could be doing something stupider, I can't think of what._

Snape crouched behind the Post Office, scowling to himself.  His non-Slytherin students often claimed that the Potions master hated the world, and at the moment, they couldn't have been closer to the truth.  _Damn Voldemort._  If the situation wasn't bad enough in itself—Death Eaters crawling all over Hogsmeade and taking out targets of opportunity with gleeful smiles on their faces—Voldemort was there.  He could feel it.  The Dark Lord hadn't been on the map—or Guide, whatever it was called—the last time Snape had looked at it, but he could feel him.  The Mark was burning as if his arm was going to fall of.  _That might be an improvement_.

Screams.

He crept forward, slipping down an alley and approaching the third house on the left.  It looked as if the Death Eaters had been working their way down the street, simply hitting house after house as they went.  Most of the houses were still occupied.  Those that couldn't make it to the Three Broomsticks were simply trying to ride it out in their own homes, keeping their heads down and hoping the destruction would pass.  _Fools_.  They just didn't get it.  Voldemort wasn't after anyone in particular.  Fear was his goal.  Fear started with destroying Hogsmeade.  _Bastard.  _Many teams of Death Eaters were roaming the village at will, killing and torturing to their black hearts' content.  They knew no one would stop them.  Who was there to do so?  The Ministry?  Snape snorted.  That was hardly likely, especially considering the crisis that Fudge's cowardice had caused.  The only people able to stand up to this kind of onslaught would be a virtual company of Aurors, and with the Ministry's disarray, that wasn't about to happen.  

So the people of Hogsmeade were left with an old woman, a werewolf, an ex-convict, and a former Death Eater.  _How colorful_.

The houses he passed already existed under the Dark Mark.  There was nothing he could do for them.  But perhaps he could save these people—Snape pulled a vial out of his robes.  Thankfully, he'd had the presence of mind to bring a few necessary potions along.  They'd certainly be more useful than most of the offensive magic he knew; he was, after all, most practiced in the Dark Arts when it came to attacking people, even if he wasn't very proud of that fact.  He didn't _like _Dark Magic; he was just good at it.  And he wasn't very experienced in fighting Death Eaters, for obvious reasons—but he could predict them. 

He popped the cork out of the vial, but was careful to keep his finger over the top.  It wouldn't do to have his own potion knock him out, and Snape had no intention of falling into Voldemort's compassionate hands in that manner.  _Maybe another day, thanks_.  He shook the vial, stirring the potion expertly, as he approached the front door.  It hadn't even been closed, which told him his former colleagues certainly weren't expecting resistance.  _Good._  Moving silently, he slipped inside, heading in the direction of the screams.  There were two different voices, two sets of screams.  They alternated, so the Death Eaters were taking turns.  How thoughtful of them.

He ended up in the living room; the couple had taken refuge in the kitchen, though why he did not know.  They certainly could have picked a more defensible place…if they'd even thought about trying to fight, that was.  Perhaps they hadn't.  This couple wouldn't be the first.  Snape grimaced, and tried to pretend that he didn't know the masked figures, hadn't once thought of them as colleagues.  He could identify each from form or voice, knew their styles and knew their powers.  A quick count revealed that there were only three of them, which meant there were countless other groups wandering around the helpless village.  Another fresh bout of screaming.  They'd started on the husband again, while the wife lay gasping on the floor.  They were both relatively young, probably not graduates of Hogwarts—he'd have recognized them, then, and he didn't—_Innocents caught on a battleground no one thought to defend_, he thought angrily.  He was partially at fault for that, as much as anyone else, Snape knew.  It was just that no one ever thought Voldemort would go so far.

He whipped his arm forward, releasing the vial in a perfect underhanded toss.  It hit the ground and shattered immediately, but Snape did not see it fall.  He too concerned with diving behind a nearby bookshelf and holding his breath—_Three_, the Potions master counted.  _Two_… The Death Eaters were speaking, trying to figure out what was going on, where the strange yellow smoke had come from.  _One!_

Suddenly, there were no more voices.  Only a set of three thuds, as the Death Eaters hit the floor, unconscious.  Unfortunately, he was sure that the potion had also knocked out the witch and wizard who were now silent on the kitchen floor, but there was no helping that.  Instead of immediately moving to help them, though, Snape carefully counted to thirty, staying precisely where he was.  Then he rose, confident that the potion's effects had cleared—smoking potions were ever so useful—he entered the kitchen, stepping over a comatose Death Eater as he went.  These two would be out of play for at least an hour, after which he didn't care what they did.  Snape supposed he could have eliminated them then, and done the world a service, but he could not bring himself to kill them in cold blood, and knew that Dumbledore would never ask it of him.  Sometimes, it was a huge relief to be on the right side.

He bent first over the wife and mumbled, "_Ennervate."_  Immediately, she started to twitch awake, but Snape didn't have the time to watch her.  He quickly crossed to the wizard and did the same, then strode back out into the hall to make sure no one had followed him in.  By the time he returned to the kitchen, they were both up and clinging to one another.  Both gave a start of fear as he came back.

"It's all right," Snape said quickly.  "I'm a friend."  _How ironic, but true._

"Who are you?" the witch asked quietly.

"Severus Snape," he replied.  The pain in both sets of wide eyes made him uneasy, but he could not afford to cast healing spells over either one of them.  He'd have plenty need of all his strength later.  "I am a professor at Hogwarts."

 At least that seemed to relieve them.  _A little._  But both were still frightened.  They had every right to be.  The wizard asked timidly, "What's going on?"

"The village is under attack," Snape scowled.  "Come with me."

"But why?" the woman whispered.

"There is no why," the Potions master snarled.  "It's Voldemort.  Now come."

His mind whirled, catalogued.  His eyes swept over the group of Death Eaters, recognizing those he could, and noting those he could not.  There were five of them, standing together and laughing with delight at the figures screaming on the ground.  One of their victims no longer moved, leading Sirius to assume he was dead. _Macnair and Dolohov_, he thought coldly to himself.  _You I know.  _The woman in the center looked too young for him to have faced before, but she looked familiar enough, which made Sirius think that she had been at the Ministry.  Perhaps she had been one of Malfoy's followers that day, one of the ones he had knocked unconscious.  It was possible.  But the next two figures made his blood run cold.

_Marcia and Alden Lestrange._

Sirius did not fear them; he feared what their presence signified.  He knew Voldemort had taken Azkaban, but his first thoughts had been of what would happen when the Dementors were unleashed on the public.  The ex-Auror hadn't stopped to think that his old prison mates would now be free to roam the Wizarding world, sanity notwithstanding.  He didn't think that anyone released from Azkaban would come out of it sane for quite some time—but then again, Sirius doubted that Voldemort cared.  _Lovely._  _They were always homicidal maniacs; now they've got sixteen years of payback to get started on._

_And I have people to save._  Four of their victims were still screaming, and two of them were children.  The other two Sirius recognized as Zonko, the owner of a store Sirius had once frequented more than any other, and his wife.  Both were wonderful, and _innocent_, people.  He wondered if the dead body had been a friend of theirs.  He hoped the children were not their own.  Sirius leaned further around the corner of Zonko's shop.  All four were screaming.  He took a deep breath, cleared his mind and focused on drawing all the power he could into his spell work.  This would require a great deal of that—and speed.

_"Stupefy!"_

Three were down: the unknown woman and the Lestranges.  In truth, that was the best he could have expected, since he didn't have a good enough angle on Macnair or Dolohov to hit them with enough force.  Both conscious Death Eaters, however, staggered when struck by the fringes of his attack, and both spun towards where Sirius had been, taking their concentration off of their victims.  Red light flashed, and a corner of the joke shop exploded, but Sirius was no longer there.  He was diving, rolling to his right, opening up the engagement zone and putting the Death Eaters between himself and the Zonkos.  He'd have preferred to work it the other way around, but at least he had the Death Eaters' attention.

_"Conjunctivitus!"_ Macnair went for the eyes.  Typical.

_"Petrificius Totalus!"_  Dolohov tried a body bind, which was more interesting, but no more effective.  Sirius batted both aside with ease as he came up into his traditional dueling crouch.  

_"Offenvox!"_  he cried.

Both Death Eaters reacted as if they'd just been zapped with a few volts of Muggle electricity—which, Sirius supposed, they really had been.  Macnair and Dolohov collapsed to the ground, but the ex-Auror didn't give them time to twitch and contemplate their misery.  _"Stupefy!"_

He sprinted towards the Zonkos, even as Mr. Zonko tried to lever himself upwards.  Still in motion, Sirius cast a quick diagnostic spell, and could feel the Cruciatus curse resonating from all four of them.  With a heavy heart, he also realized that the fifth figure—a child of no more than six—was dead.  The others were in pain, but were still coherent.  "Mr. Zonko?"

"You know me?" the man blinked.

"No time for that now."  Sirius helped the older man to his feet.  "You can walk?"

Zonko nodded, and Sirius turned his attention to the joke shop owner's family.

Normally, Remus was rather fond of plants.  He enjoyed gardening, loved to watch flowers, fruits, and vegetables grow; but at the moment, he'd have given a great deal to be anywhere but in the middle of a magical garden with…_personality_.  Muggle plants were wonderful creations, and magical plants were supposed to be the exact same thing, but magically "altered" plants were something else altogether.  They moved and they danced.  They wanted to be talked to and petted.  They got in the way and tried to grab your ankles as you walked past.  They made obscure little plant noises when ignored and didn't seem to understand the English language well enough to shut up.  They were, well, for lack of a better word, magical.  Most importantly, though, they were a pain in the arse.  Especially right now.

Remus threw off another vine as a rosebush reached out to touch him.  Although he scowled, he didn't dare speak, even if he was fairly sure there was no one close enough to hear him.  That simply wasn't a chance worth taking.  He'd rather suffer the plants than endanger innocents through discovery.

Finally, he slipped through the greenhouse door.  At the time, entering the building through the back way (or the greenhouse in this case), had seemed like a fabulous idea.  What wizard would bother to walk through a humongous greenhouse when the front door could be unlocked with a word?  Why not do the unexpected and thus gain the element of surprise?  It had seemed simple.  It had been, in fact, too simple.  Why not go through the greenhouse?  _Because it's full of man-eating plants, you fool!_  In fairness to the local fauna, they probably didn't want to _eat _him.  They just wanted to be his friend.  _Swell_, the werewolf thought to himself.  _Maybe I'll come back later and make friends.  After I'm finished avoiding around seventy Death Eaters, that is._  He glanced at the Gatekeeper's Guide again, frowning slightly.  Typical of Sirius to make him take the thing, when Sirius would undoubtedly end up in more trouble than Remus could even dream of creating.  Sirius just had that talent.

_Concentrate!_  He'd have yelled at himself, but that would have probably gotten the attention of the quiet looking tree he presently stood next to.  So far, it was the only plant in the place that hadn't greeted him with one hundred percent enthusiasm, and Remus was keen to keep things that way.  He'd had it with plants.  What would a primary school want with a greenhouse this size, anyway?  Remus sighed.  _"Inquireum en Protegeus Veritas."_

Dozens of dots concealed in one spot on the Guide.  Although the Guide wasn't nearly as detailed as the Marauder's Map (there were simply places in Hogsmeade that he and Sirius didn't know well enough to draw out precisely), it could tell him who and where people were.  At the moment, though, he didn't have a chance in identifying all the different dots' identities; the dots were stacked on top of one another and impossible to read.  However, he could guess that there were something between fifty and eighty people in that area, and it did not take a genius to guess what most of them were.  Cold anger wormed its way into Remus' belly.  _Children_.  _Perhaps a few teachers, but mostly children._

Most people never realized that there was a magical primary school located in Hogsmeade.  Then again, most witches and wizards did not look at Hogsmeade as another other than the only Wizarding town in Britain, a wonderful place to shop and an exciting place to visit.  But it was a true community, inhabited by families and children.  Not all those children, unfortunately, had the talents to attend Hogwarts when they came of age; most would simply learn a trade and carry on the day-to-day business of Hogsmeade.  Such a fact never occurred to most magical folk (including Remus, before he and Sirius had started thinking about what might happen if Hogsmeade was attacked), but it was true.  And the children who couldn't attend Hogwarts had to learn the basics somewhere.  Hence the existence of Madam Chesserie's Magical Primary School.  

Hence Remus' presence in its abominable greenhouse.  

_"Alohomora."_  The door slid open, and the werewolf moved swiftly through the school.  The teachers had clearly recognized the threat; even though Death Eaters had not yet come close to the school, the students and teachers were gathered in the main building's hall, a central area with no doors leading to outside.  They could shelter there for as long as it took for the Death Eaters to break through the wards that blocked entrance to the doors—which, Remus realized upon reaching those selfsame doors, weren't very good.  He glanced at the map one last time.  Every dot in the school was still gathered in the main hall.  _Good_.  Taking a deep breath, the history professor readied a shield charm for himself and raised his wand.

The wards came down within seconds, and Remus slipped through the door.  He'd barely had it closed behind himself before he threw himself sideways, watching a score of magic strike the spot he had occupied less than a second before.  Hastily, he rolled left, automatically coming up in an offensive stance, but thinking the better of it. 

"Wait!" he cried.

Frightened faces stared at him.  Some children were crying; the oldest in the bunch couldn't yet be fifteen.  A few adults were scattered around the hall, mostly in between Remus and the students.  They looked ready to kill.  Cautiously, the professor held his wand away from his body, well aware that it could be the last thing he ever did, but he needed these people to _trust _him.  Having to fight them off wasn't a way to start that.  _I'd have knocked first if I thought they'd listen_, he thought ruefully.  _But in their place, I wouldn't have opened the door, either._  No one spoke.  They all just stared, teachers and older students with wands out and ready.

 "My name is Remus Lupin," he said calmly.  "I am a professor at Hogwarts.  I am here to help you."

Silence.  For a moment, Remus began to fear that they wouldn't believe him.  _How can I save them despite themselves?_  Finally, a gray haired wizard towards at the front spoke.

"Hogwarts?"  Remus nodded.  "Why should we believe you?"

_Good question_.  The werewolf looked him in the eye.  "The only proof I can give you is through saving your lives." 

The teachers exchanged glances, but it was the gray haired man who nodded.  "I suppose we have no choice but to trust you.  My name is Hamish Stakespole.  I run the school.  What do you want us to do?"

"How many of you are there?" Remus' mind was spinning.

"Sixty-two children, ranging from seven to thirteen.  Ten teachers."

"We have to get you all to the Three Broomsticks," Remus explained.  "It's an evacuation point.  From there we'll take you to Hogwarts.  You will be safe there."

"But we can't leave," a red-haired teacher said nervously.  "They'll find us…"

Others were nodding in agreement.  The smell of fear in the room was nauseating.  These were corned and desperate people, too frightened to make a run for it.  There was doubt even in Stakespole's eyes, and the man looked old enough to have known better.  "Look," Remus said sternly.  "I broke through your wards.  So will Death Eaters.  We have to leave _now_." 

Arabella looked up as Sirius brought two adults and two children inside the Three Broomsticks.  Her fingers danced over the piece of parchment lying on the table in front of her; it was her key, and with it, she checked to make sure all her wards were still in place.  _Good._  Just to be sure, though, she checked it again.  She, with the help of the other adults in the Three Broomsticks, had erected six layers of wards around the inn, none of which would hold under determined assault, but all of which would slow attackers down.  Unlike many others, these wards _were _deadly, not because Arabella liked to kill, but because she had no time for niceties.  Thus, it was extremely important that she lower them for friends, which she did by touching the crude drawing before her.  It was easier when she could visualize her work.

Sirius was carrying one of the children, and the older wizard seemed to be half dragging another one.  All four of Sirius' evacuees looked horrible, and Arabella wouldn't have to have ever been an Auror to recognize the after-effects of the Cruciatus curse.  Others within the Three Broomsticks immediately rushed to help, and she watched Sirius hand the little girl over with care.  Behind her, she heard Madam Rosmerta's voice as the inn's proprietor calmly directed the other refugees into the fireplace at a very precise rate of one every fifteen seconds.  That was the shortest time delay they dared to use, especially given the fact that Hogwarts wasn't _really _part of the Floo Network; only an age-old special understanding between the owners of the Three Broomsticks and Albus Dumbledore permitted this connection at all.  The inn was about half as full as it once had been, now, but Arabella knew that time was growing short.

"How many?" she asked as Sirius approached.

"I knocked out a total of six on High Street, and another five outside of Zonko's," the other replied evenly.  Arabella stared at him, though, wondering if he knew how truly extraordinary that was.  "No kills."

She arched one eyebrow.  While Arabella did not agree with the Aurors' "extended" powers, she knew that there were times when killing was necessary—and if there ever was one, this was it.  Then again, she knew Sirius' service record, and knew that he _had _killed in the past, albeit rarely, so she doubted it was squeamishness that stopped him.  Rather, she suspected that had come from his rush to save all those he could instead of eliminate every Death Eater he came across.  In the future, the live enemies he left behind might become a liability, but he was right.  They were there to save people, not to kill.  "Excellent."

"Did the others get through?" Sirius asked quietly.

"Yes." Arabella nodded.  "Why didn't you come with them, to lead them through?  I might not have taken the wards down, you know, and that would have been disastrous."

 "There wasn't time," the other replied.  "And there isn't now.  Is everything going all right?"

"It is.  You're the first one back, though."

One black eyebrow arched elegantly.  "I am?"

"Yes."

"I'll go see what I can find out, then."  Sirius turned to go, still moving with athleticism and grace, and Arabella suddenly realized that he'd managed to do everything he had without gaining a scratch.

"I didn't mean it that way," Arabella said admonishingly.  He was too much like his teacher.  Alastor Moody would also have wandered back out into the dark.

"I know you didn't."

Snape led his group towards the Three Broomsticks at a fast jog, running parallel to High Street but not daring to go any closer to it.  The night sky was beginning to glow green; even he had never seen so many Dark Marks hovering together.  Voldemort meant business.  Behind him, he heard a sudden gasp, and turned in time to see the first woman he rescued go down, dragging her husband down with her.  Cursing, Snape stopped and headed towards them.  "Anna?" the husband was gasping.  "Anna?!"

Snape bent down as he reached the couple's side.  He was extremely conscious of the group gathering around them; so far, he had managed to save seventeen people from the houses on the street by the Post Office, and he knew he didn't have much time if he was going to save them.  None of them were hurt yet, simply because he'd stopped the team of Death Eaters who were working that street.  Those young fools had taken more time than they should have, had enjoyed the torture they were causing too much.  That had meant only six had died—but those deaths still burned shamefully inside Severus Snape.  He knew he couldn't save them all, but he had to try.  There was so much he had to make up for­­—_We don't have time for this!_ he growled inwardly.  The Three Broomsticks was within sight now, hardly a block away.  He just had to get his charges to safety before anyone noticed that an entire lane of houses was empty.

"What is it?" he asked the husband.

"I don't know," the wizard replied fretfully  "She just stopped, then fell, and now she's not answering…!" 

"All right.  Move."

Immediately, the wizard shifted to make room for Snape at his wife's side.  His brown eyes, however, watched the Potions master with fear, worried that his wife would not live.  But Snape pushed his presence, and the others watching, out of his mind.  He had to concentrate.  It took only seconds to identify the problem—sheer fatigue and pain—but that made him scowl.  _"Ennervate."_

Her eyes opened, full of pain and exhaustion.  But Snape didn't have time for compassion.  He knew it wouldn't be long now.

"Can you walk?" he asked immediately.

"No…" Anna whispered, and to Snape's right, the husband made a sound of despair.  _Great.  _He laid a hand on her forehead, and ignored the wizard's question about what he was doing.

_"Adficios Vos._" Weakness ripped through him, making Snape grimace, but he saw further awareness blossom in her eyes and saw the pain in them fade a little as he took it on to himself.  She blinked, and stared at him gratefully; Snape struggled to keep a growl of impatience from escaping.  He rose and held out a hand to help her.  "Come on."

"Thank you," she whispered so honestly that he didn't have the heart to tell her the effect would only last a little while.  He just scowled and released her, only to have her husband grab his shoulder.  A wave of pain ran through Snape.  He hated the Strength Charm.  Too bad he hadn't had a restorative potion handy instead.

"What did you do?"

One acid glance was enough to make the other let him go.  "I transferred some of my strength to her," he replied shortly.  "It will only last a few hours, though."

"Why didn't you do that before?" the wizard demanded angrily.

Snape scowled and snapped, "Because if we run into more Death Eaters, you can't afford to have me at anything less than full strength!"

The other stared.  _Fool_.  He wasn't worth wasting Snape's time on, so the professor simply headed out once more, his every sense alert and searching for the enemies he knew would be coming.  This was going too easily.  Far too easily… Snape almost wished something would happen just so he could get it over with.

Within another ten steps, he got his wish.

Power laced through the air, and even as it smashed into the members of his small company, Snape realized that the next wave would be aimed at him.  He hit the ground, rolling to the side, but still noticing that many of his charges were stupid enough to struggle immediately to their feet.  They stood there, looking around, making themselves into big and beautiful targets.  _Damn fools_.  Snape scrambled upwards as the first of them fell, hating the tactical stupidity of his own move almost as much as he dreaded the necessity of doing so.  _"Get down!"_

He was sure the Death Eaters would recognize his voice, even if they didn't recognize the signature in the shield spell he rushed out to protect his charges.  If they were slow enough to miss that, though, not a one of them could have missed the curse he aimed at their leader.

_"Vulernocorpus!_"

_"Obfirmum!_" a familiar voice cried even as the words left his mouth.

Pain tore through him, and suddenly his body would not respond to traditional commands.  It was odd, really, how alike he and Lucius Malfoy could be at times; he'd tried a paralysis spell, while good old Lucius had aimed for a Dark body lock.  Both had aimed to take out the body to disable the caster, and unfortunately, their reaction times were as similar as their thought processes.  Snape knew from experience that Lucius would be the first to throw off the curse, but he also knew his old classmate would only beat him by seconds.  Seconds, however, could mean death.

And so could the fact that Lucius had companions.

_"Crucio!"_

_"Crucio!"_

Crabbe and Goyle.  It had to be.  Neither of them was creative enough to think of anything else by themselves.  But even as Snape screamed, he heard Lucius' enraged voice.  "He's mine!"

_Oh, shit._  He twisted away the moment the curses stopped.  Three against one were not good odds, even when two of them were stupider than Filch's cat.  Much stupider.  The darkness, however, began to serve Snape well, and he knew that he had a few seconds in which to escape—if he wanted to leave innocents to suffer Malfoy's wrath.  _I wish Black had killed you_, he thought suddenly.  _ I really do_.  _Bastard._  Even Severus Snape, however, could never know if the last though was directed at his old friend or at his old enemy.  He jumped to his feet, bellowing at the witches and wizards he had promised to protect.

_"Run!"_

He didn't have time to check if they listened or not.  He was too occupied with Lucius Malfoy and the curses that began to cross through the air between them.

"Are you an Auror?" Stakespole asked as they weaved through the sparse trees, Remus and the school's headmaster in the lead.

"No," the werewolf replied with a forced smile, sniffing the air cautiously.  Nothing obvious had changed, yet there was something… "My best friends were, though."

"Dead?" the old wizard asked with compassion.

"One of them."  _Something is not right_.  

"I'm sorry."  Stakespole was a good man, Remus had learned, and a kind one.  He actually meant it.

_Me, too.  _Remus frowned.  "I smell something."

"Smell something?"

_Darkness.  Death.  Pain.  Incoming!_  "Get down!"

Remus bolted forward, not needing to look at the Gatekeeper's Guide.  His footsteps carried him forward with inhuman speed; this was a time when the wolf and its abilities were useful.  He knew who was coming, and knew he was rushing to his death, but there was no choice.  He had to protect them.  There were children behind him, innocent children—and Death Eaters ahead of him.  He counted six masked forms…and one that was not.  Voldemort.

Even as Remus brought his wand up, he knew it would be too late.

_"Avada Kedavra!"_    
  


Power crackled, and he barely had time to turn before he was struck by shooting and nerve-wrecking pain.  Power guided his hands.  _"Econtra Cruci!"_

Sirius jumped to his feet as the Cruciatus curse abruptly ended, not even taking the time to consider the fact that this was the first time he'd completely succeeded in using the counter curse he had recently taught his students about.  He usually preferred more direct methods of dealing with attackers, but at the moment, this seemed to have worked, because no further attack came until he'd finished isolating his four attackers.  Recognition suddenly flared in his mind, bringing cold fury with it._ I know that one!   _However, he did not have time to raise a shield before the next curse struck

_"Formidilosus!"_

Fear washed over him, and even knowing that it was not his own made it hard to fight off.  Terror of control, of pain, of death, or of imprisonment temporarily paralyzed his mind, concentrating his thoughts on all the horrible events that his future might hold.  He remembered the torture he had experienced in the past, and knew that it was coming… He thought of being held by Dementors once more, having every happy thought sucked from his soul—he hardly heard the voice that cried, _"Crucio!"_ and although Sirius registered the pain, it only amplified the fear that trapped his mind… He thought of dying like Lily and James, thought of Harry in Voldemort's hands… _Harry!_  Clarity crept in.  _Harry…Hogwarts…Hogsmeade!_  His mind cleared.  The fear vanished.

Pain.

He was screaming.  The Cruciatus curse.  No, three of it—what was the forth Death Eater doing?  His body was convulsing.  There was no time to think, no time to wonder—_Pain…_  Anger was the greatest multiplier of the Cruciatus curse.  If the caster was angry, the curse became much, much stronger.  _Agony_… Ruthlessly, he seized control of his senses.  Sirius poured every bit of strength into fighting the urge to become oblivious, to become lost in the pain.

_"Vindireperio!"_ he bellowed.

It stopped.  They screamed.  The spell had the desired effect: it had thrown the curses back at their casters.  Ignoring the pain, Sirius clambered to his feet.  There was still another Death Eater to deal with—instinct made Sirius throw himself to the right, avoiding a spell just as it sizzled through the air where his head had been.  He rolled, trying to ignore how much it hurt to do so, and started to come to his feet again as four voices cried as one:

_"Imperio!"_

----------------------

**Author's Note:   Sorry, I know it's another cliffhanger—or two, anyway!  It's also the longest chapter in the story.  I promise, however, to get Chapter 21 up very soon.  In other news, I've started another story, titled "Promises Unbroken" and would be very grateful if you could check that one out.  I don't have a link to it yet, but if you check my profile, it will be there.  To give you a short go at the summary: _Sirius Black remained the Secret Keeper and everything he feared came to pass.  Ten years later, James and Lily live, Harry attends Hogwarts, and Voldemort remains…welcome to a darker world._**

**            Thanks for reading, as always, and please review!  I'll update soon, I promise!**


	22. First Light

**DEATH BEFORE DISHONOR**

Chapter Twenty-One: First Light 

A body knocked into him from behind, sending Remus crashing face down into the dirt.  Less than a second later, the same body landed on top of him, hard, immobile, and heavy as lead.  Dead.

Remus knew what he would find before he even threw Hamish Stakespole's body off of his own, having no time for sadness or thanks.  Faced with Death Eaters, he only had seconds, and he knew that his life, like so many others, was lying on the line.  Quickly, Remus jumped to his feet, trying to take advantage of the moment's distraction the teacher had offered through saving his life.  Even Voldemort seemed to be surprised—

_"Plantaligo!"_ he cried desperately, hoping to find the one spell Voldemort would not expect.

The small group of trees jumped to life, reaching out for the Death Eaters with a vengeance.  Angry howls hurt his sensitive ears, and Remus winched, turning away even as he heard curses tearing through the night air.  The plants seemed to be smart, as plants went, and had gone for all the Death Eaters' arms and wands (which wasn't entirely too surprising; as he and his friends had found out in their third year, _everything _around Hogsmeade was magical in one way or another).  But even that meant he wouldn't have long, especially with Voldemort among those caught in the plant life.  _There isn't any plant in the world, magical or Muggle, that will hold him for more than a few seconds._  Sadness rose within Remus as he sprinted away.  He didn't even have time to take Stakespole's body.

Quickly, he reached the other teachers and children.  "Let's go!" he said harshly, ignoring the questioning looks when they saw he was alone.  But they followed.  They trusted him to save them, after all, just like Hamish Stakespole had.

The wolf was alert as he ran through the night, expecting Voldemort to catch them any minute now.  The older children were carrying the younger ones, and the teachers were covering their flanks and brining up the rear, but Remus knew that would not be enough.  Surely Voldemort and the others were free of the trees by now, and following—suddenly, the Three Broomsticks came into sight, and it was the sweetest thing that Remus Lupin had ever seen.  As they grew closer, he drifted to the back of his impromptu pack, gesturing for them to get inside as Arabella lowered her wards for them to pass.  She was unbelievably quick, Arabella Figg, and replaced the layers of wards even as the last of his people got past each line.  Remus came last, glancing over his shoulder, but finding nothing.  Finally, he slipped inside the door and came face to face with Arabella Figg.

"I didn't expect you to hold the door open for me," he tried to say lightly, but his attempt at humor fell flat, even to his own ears.

She frowned.  "You're the first back—well, the second, but Sirius left again over fifteen minutes ago."  Arabella's voice grew hard.  "The time limit has now arrived."

A quick glance told Remus that the Three Broomsticks was empty, save for his charges and Madam Rosmerta, who was already herding the children towards the fireplace.  "They're not back?"

"No."  Her eyes were cool, but he saw the worry behind the calm.

"I'll—" Just as Remus started to speak, the wolf's senses picked up approaching people.  He heard running footsteps, and he smelled fear and pain.  "Take down the wards!"

Arabella's fingers flew over a piece of parchment that Remus hadn't even noticed was in her hand.  However, he did not pause to watch; instead, the professor bolted out the door, heading for the ragged group of witches and wizards who were headed towards the inn.  He estimated that there were around fifteen of them—but there was no sign of Sirius or Severus.  In fact, the group seemed more lost than anything, so he called to them, and saw them rush forward.  "Inside, quickly!"

They did not need to be told twice.  Remus grabbed a haggard looking young wizard by the arm, and regretted it when he saw the other wince in pain.  But there was no time for that.  He had to know.  "Was there someone with you?"

The younger man nodded shakily.  "Yes."

"What was his name?" Remus asked breathlessly.

"I don't know," the wizard shrugged.  "He had black hair."

_Well that helps a lot._  It made him want to scream.  Suddenly, the young witch at his side spoke up.  "He said his name was Snape," she said quietly.  "Severus Snape."

Distantly, he heard voices, but they hardly seemed to matter.  They were outside.  The outside did not matter; all that mattered was inside, inside his head.  Inside was warm, soft…comfortable.  There was nothing.  There was nothing except for a soft voice that told him to stand still, to drop his wand…_ Just let it go…_

_But why?  _Sirius only wondered out of reflex, of course.  Putting his wand down seemed like an excellent idea.  Why was he holding it so tightly, anyway?  He didn't need it.

_Put the wand down…_ the inside voice grew more insistent as an outside voices spoke.  He felt like he was listening through water.  It was so far away…habit made him listen, nothing more.  It wasn't important.

"We ought to kill him," one said.

"We can't," another answered.  He recognized the voice, but at the moment, he couldn't remember why.  "Our Lord wants this one alive."

"And what if he fights it off?" the third wondered.

"He won't," said the second.  "Not now."  _Put the wand down… Just let go…_ Sirius dropped his wand.  It seemed so useless to hang on to it.  His hand had been cramping from the effort, anyway.  "See?"

"You heard what he did to Malfoy," a fourth complained.  "I don't trust him."

He could hear the second one shrug.  Apparently, he was the leader.  _Come here… Come over here…_  "So?" the leader laughed bitterly.  "Then we disable him."

_Come closer…_ His legs carried him forward.  It felt good to move, to comply… _Keep moving… _

_But why? _he thought again.  Sirius stopped moving.  He liked it where he was, and a small feeling in the back of his mind told him to stay put.  _Something is wrong.  Something is very wrong… _"He's fighting it," the first complained.  "Look."

_Come closer…_

_No thanks.  I'll stay here._

_COME CLOSER._  His legs tried to carry him forward, but it seemed so pointless.  There wasn't a reason to move.

_Maybe later._

_COME NOW.  NOW!  NOW!_  Pain.  Something flared in his mind, though, provoked by the pain, and Sirius realized that the desire to move closer to his enemies was not his own.  

_Enemies… _The world began to make sense again, and Sirius began to fight.  Suddenly, he remembered.  He recognized.  _Wormtail!_  Hatred added to his strength.  He felt more power poured into the hold, but still it began to crack.  Then, four voices spoke together:

_"Crucio!"_

_ "Rumperis!"_

_ "Imperio!"_

_"Adficios Me!"_

His body buckled, and even through the Imperius curse, he felt pain.  Sirius staggered, and did not collapse to the ground only because the Death Eaters still had control over him.  The four-fold effects of the curses used on him was like nothing he had ever felt before.  Each of the four had a different idea of how to stop Sirius from fighting their control, and together, none of it was pretty.  However they planned it, though, the combined effects of Cruciatus, Bone-breaker, Imperius, and the Strength-stealing curses did the job rather nicely.  What little awareness that Sirius still possessed felt the pain, although distantly, and he felt his legs break.

Malfoy, Snape decided, would have made a fine Muggle airplane.  He flew beautifully.  

Crabbe and Goyle, however, did not seem to agree.  The moment their friend and his claim over Snape was airborne, they cried together, _"Stupefy!"_

Snape dodged.  They were so predictable.  Then again, they always had been.  He whirled, feeling his robes twirl around him, and cried, _"Glacialium!"_

Both Death Eaters froze, probably without ever understanding why.  Then again, neither of them had ever had a lot of spells in their repertoire, so Snape wouldn't have been surprised if they'd never heard of the freezing spell.  Those that thought Crabbe and Goyle, juniors, were the stupidest children ever to attend Hogwarts simply had never met their fathers.  A sarcastic grin split Snape's face for a moment, but it hurt, so he stopped.  That, however, didn't erase his elation.  He'd beaten Malfoy.  And he'd done it without using a bit of Dark Magic—but he didn't have time to congratulate himself.  It was time to leave, before Crabbe and Goyle figured out that the freezing spell could be fought.  _Then again, since that would require _thinking_, figuring that out might take all night_.

Snape made for High Street, not caring if he was spotted now.  There was pain, but he could ignore it.  He simply needed the fastest way to get to the Three Broomsticks, and couldn't afford to wait—he couldn't even afford to stop to kill his old friend, presuming that Lucius wasn't already dead.  The senior Death Eater had hit the ground _awfully _hard, and Snape had to hope Lucius had broken his back or neck in the fall.  Perhaps it wasn't a nice thought, but Severus Snape wasn't exactly a nice guy, either.  He sprinted around the side of a building—and ran right into an unyielding mass.

The impact threw them both to the ground, barely giving Snape the time to glimpse four Death Eaters with wands raised—the person he had run into suddenly rolled away from him, grabbing a wand that the potions master suddenly realized had been lying abandoned on the ground, and crying _"Everbero!"_

Snape recognized the voice, full of pain thought it was.  Quickly, he was on his feet, thrusting his wand towards the sprawled Death Eaters—odd, that they weren't unconscious yet, because someone of Black's power using that spell would usually knock a score of Death Eaters out until lunch tomorrow—

_"Stupefy!" _Snape cried, and the Death Eaters moved no more.  He turned to Black, who was, oddly enough, still on the ground.

On second glance, he looked like hell.  The ex-convict was pale and ragged, and both his legs were bent at unnatural angles.  Snape swore.  This was going to complicate matters…just what he didn't need right then.  Angrily, he demanded, "What the hell happened to you?"

 "What the fuck does it look like?" Black spat back, and Snape could almost have been happy to break through the cold calm he usually encountered.  At the moment, though, it was hardly funny.  In fact, the situation was rather distressing.  Black grimaced, and then pointed his wand at himself.  _"Brevisalvum Mali."_

Immediately, some of the gaunt pain left Sirius' face, and his legs snapped back to a normal position.  Snape blinked, then stared as the former Auror came to his feet, moving with none of his usual grace, but clearly functional.  _What the hell?_  Snape had never heard of any spell with that sudden kind of healing power.  He scowled skeptically.

"What was that?"

Sirius grimaced again.  "Quick heal spell used by Aurors.  It'll only last awhile."

"Why didn't you show that to me before?"  Snape had to ask.  It wasn't that he didn't trust Black—he didn't, but that was immaterial, and he owed him a goddamn wizard's debt, for Merlin's sake—but it was suspicious.  And having never heard of any spell of that kind, Snape had to wonder.  A lot.  Such a spell would have helped him a great deal when escaping from Voldemort.

"Because you wouldn't have lived through it wearing off," Black replied with a frown.  "And you can only cast it on yourself, anyway."  The other man looked at him.  "Thanks, by the way."

"Huh?"

"For running into me," Black replied.  "It knocked me free of the Imperius curse."

"Ah."  Snape rolled his eyes.  Typical.  "Not my intention, but I suppose you're welcome."

"Shall we go?"

A quick glance around told Snape that they were still alone, amazingly enough.  That, however, could not be counted upon to last for long.  The village was still crawling with Death Eaters, and they hadn't the time to save any one else.  If there were any innocent people left where Voldemort could get at them, the Hogwarts' team had lost its advantage of surprise, and could easily be overcome by sheer force of numbers.  Nodding, he replied, "Yes.  No offense, but I really don't want to run through a gantlet of Death Eaters with you again. "

"I agree.  It wasn't much fun the first time, and guarantees to be even less the second."  Black's voice was still tight with pain, and Snape guessed that while the quick-heal spell dealt with injuries well enough, it left pain behind.  _I wonder how long "awhile" lasts, anyway?_ the Potions master thought suddenly.  _That might become rather important very soon._  But he didn't ask.  Like him or not, Black certainly had enough experience to know where his own limits were, and if the fool collapsed, Snape supposed he could always catch him.

Together, the two wizards ran toward the Three Broomsticks and safety.

Remus Lupin stood in just inside the doorway, his eyes on the Gatekeeper's Guide as the dots labeled "Sirius Black" and "Severus Snape" sped closer and closer to the Three Broomsticks.  Right on their heels (although he was sure neither realized it) were a score of other dots.  Most were too close together to read, but one stood out above the others.  It was labeled, "Tom Riddle." 

"How many do we have left?" he called to Arabella, without taking his eyes off of the Guide.  _Come on, _he silently urged his fellows on.  _Hurry up.  _

"Twenty."

That meant five minutes.  Five minutes was far too long…and Remus heard his own fears reflected in Arabella's flat voice.  Sirius and Severus would reach the inn in less than one minute, but at that time there would still be more than fifteen innocents to transfer to Hogwarts.  And that count did not include Madam Rosmerta, Arabella, himself, Snape, or Sirius.  _That's too long!_  Remus swallowed, but his sensitive hearing still noticed as Arabella walked up beside him, her ward key in hand.

"This is going to get interesting," she said quietly.

"Unfortunately," Remus agreed, swallowing.  His eyes were on the Guide.  Sirius and Severus were drawing closer.  He made to speak to Arabella, to warn her to bring the first ward down, but her fingers were already flying.

"First down," she said quietly.  After a second: "First up." The pattern continued for each layer of wards, and Remus watched, spellbound, his eyes flicking back and forth between Arabella's crude line drawings of her wards to the splendidly rendered Gatekeeper's Guide.  Between the two, he knew exactly where his fellows were, and it ate at him to know he couldn't do anything for them—Arabella's wand suddenly jerked, and he realized that Voldemort's group of Death Eaters had reached the first ward.  Sirius and Severus were at the third, occupying Arabella's full attention.

On instinct, Remus bolted to the window, pulling a board away (why they had bothered boarding the windows, he did not know, but he supposed that added to their sense of security) so he could see what was happening outside.  Sirius and Severus were moving quickly, but both were a little sluggish, and Sirius' movements were definitely off.  The wolf smelled pain, and blood—but there was no time to consider that revelation as magic crossed the barriers, sending both professors flying.  To his left, he heard Arabella curse; Sirius and Severus had almost struck the second-to-last ward, and would have died if she hadn't gotten it down in time.  Worse, though, was the fact that Voldemort's magic had burned through several layers of wards with little sign of weakening.  Without thinking, Remus flung the door open and dashed outside.

Snape was hauling Sirius to his feet—together, their wands rose.  _"Impedimenta!"_

Power resonated as the ex-Death Eater and ex-Auror cast together.  They were very different men, Remus knew, but both were extremely powerful individuals.  This spell also broke through the ward walls, and Remus watched Voldemort slow even as he reached his friends' sides.  Sirius looked pale.  Snape looked angry.  But again, it was Sirius who took control.  "Contegorum," he gasped in a raspy voice.  "Shield spell.  Now."

_"Contegorum!"_  Where two had been strong, three were stronger, and under the cover of the shield, the three men pulled back towards the Three Broomsticks, watching magic flash and implode against their barrier.  A shiver ran through Remus as they passed through the final ward, which went down only long enough to allow them entrance.  Finally, though, they made it inside, slamming the door behind themselves.

Arabella met them.  "Sixteen to go," she said quietly, then turned to Sirius with an Auror's calculating gaze.  "What hit you?"

"It would take too long to explain."  Sirius shook his head, and then gestured towards the fireplace.  "How long?"

"Five minutes, counting us."  The older woman scowled suddenly.  "_Damn!_  First ward down."

"Will they hold him long enough?" Snape asked.

"No," Arabella replied immediately, and Remus found his heart racing.  "I estimate two minutes.  He's very strong."

Severus mumbled something under his breath that Remus found himself unwilling to translate.  He hadn't known that even _Snape_ knew words like that…_Two minutes,_ the werewolf though to himself.  _That means there will still be eight innocent people stuck in here with us when everything comes crashing down._  Sirius looked thoughtful, though, and Remus found himself fixating on his friend's face.  While he would never doubt his own ability to deal with any power on his own (save Voldemort, of course), Remus simply wasn't _trained _for this.  He didn't think like an Auror, and neither did Snape.  Arabella did, but she was still pouring energy into her wards, silently trying to give them every possible second before breaking.

"We need more wards," Sirius said suddenly, and Remus noticed that his voice was tense, as were his shoulders.  Unconsciously, he repeated Arabella's question, _What hit you, Sirius?_  "Nothing fancy, but anything you can manage.  Put something in their way.  Remus, take the outer line, just inside Arabella's third ward.  Snape, about ten feet behind that.  I'll take the inner circle."

There wasn't time to argue, and they split up without a word.  Moving to the window, Remus began thinking up every spell he knew, and drawing up every ward he had ever even _heard _of.  He had to do it, even if he didn't think it would work.  Right behind him, he heard Snape's soft incantations matching his own as the Potions master drew up the second line.  Arabella's inhumanly calm voice split the stillness.

"Second ward breached."

Mumbling furiously under his breath, Remus struggled to complete his line before the next ward could be breached.  There was no time for niceties; Voldemort was demolishing Arabella's wards before anyone could touch them, which meant he wasn't loosing any Death Eaters in the process.  It took a little time to overpower a ward, but in the Dark Lord's case, it couldn't take long enough.  He was moving too quickly…and they had to stop him, no matter what the cost.  Remus Lupin had never been a killer, but now was not the time to debate necessity.  He decided to center his line on disintegration.   Before it was destroyed, anyone touching it would die, but he couldn't afford to care.  He had innocent people to protect, and friends depending upon him.  He'd never cast magic so quickly in his life, but even as he finished, he heard Arabella's strained voice.

"Third down."

Hell broke loose when the first Death Eater—unfortunately, not Voldemort—hit his invisible line.  One moment, there was a cloaked figure, and the next moment, it was _gone._  Snape kept muttering.  Remus smelled death, but had no time to grieve or rejoice had he even known which to do.  He saw Voldemort raise his wand, then, and there was _pain _as his lines buckled and shuddered under the sudden onslaught of power.  Remus felt himself going down, and twisted hard to his right, trying desperately to avoid Severus.  Falling into Severus would only distract the other wizard, and could cause his line to fall prematurely.  Oh, but it was agony—Remus hit the floor with a crash, almost blacking out.  He struggled to keep conscious, to hold the line, but the pain doubled, and he felt his ward collapse.  Then there was darkness.

Remus awoke as Snape fell to the floor beside him.  His first glance was towards the fireplace, and he could see the fading form of Madam Rosmerta vanish into the flames.  A distant part of his mind realized that they had succeeded, but he felt so weak… Arabella's hands shook his shoulders.  "Let's go, Remus," she said softly.  "Help me get him up."

She grabbed Snape, and Remus staggered to his feet to help.  Not far away, Sirius stood, his eyes focused on something far away and lips moving quickly, but it was hard to concentrate on his friend.  He was so dizzy… Still, though, he managed to whisper, "How many?"

"There's one line left before Sirius' and it will go any second now," Arabella responded, looking pale.  "Let's get him into the fire."

Even as they hoisted Snape, the Potions master stirred.  "Let go of me," he mumbled.  "I'll go after you."

Snape's black eyes met Remus' blue, and one thought passed between them.  Snape owed Sirius a debt.  Remus would not leave his friend.  _Until the end, then_, Remus thought with sudden clarity.  Arabella stared at them incredulously, but seemed to know that arguing would do no good.

"Men," she breathed, but then she was gone into the fire.  The final ward went down, leaving only Sirius'.  Together, Remus and Severus stumbled to the ex-Auror's side, ready to catch him when he fell.  Through the window, Remus saw a cautious Death Eater approach the Three Broomsticks.  Moments later, the man was on fire and screaming.  One final time, Voldemort's wand rose.

Sirius staggered, but did not fall.  The ward became a wall of fire; Sirius had longer to refine his ward than either Remus or Snape, and it seemed he had put that time to good use.  Cautiously, Remus hooked an arm under his best friend's shoulders, there to support him the moment he needed it.  Sirius words were coming faster, now, and Remus felt the power he was pouring into the ward.  But with what the wizard felt, the wolf smelled pain, and Remus knew his old friend was putting too much into this.  On Sirius' other side, Snape growled, and Remus knew the other wizard agreed.  Outside, the fires burned brighter.  Without warning, Sirius cried out in pain.

"Breaking…!" he gasped, wrenching away from Remus and Severus.  "Go…now!"

They looked at each other, and Remus felt his jaw set stubbornly.  With a final snarl of distaste, Snape disappeared into the fire.  The Potions master understood.  One of them had to go, but there was no way in hell Remus could leave his friend without knowing Sirius would be able to get himself out.  Their friendship ran deeper than life or blood. 

Suddenly, Sirius fell to his knees.  Even as Remus grabbed for his friend's arm, Sirius' wand shot out, and through the window, the werewolf watched Sirius' ward line collapse—_No, he _let_ it collapse_, Remus realized.  _Sirius pulled the ward it down._  The fires were gone, offering him a clear viewpoint as Voldemort sailed backwards, struck by some unseen force.  

As rapidly as he had fallen, Sirius was suddenly on his feet and shoving Remus towards the fireplace.  "Go!" his friend cried.

"You're crazy if you think I'm leaving you here!" Remus snarled, glaring at his friend.  Sirius' eyes were dark with pain, and his face was paler than Remus ever remembered it being, even when he'd seen Sirius after escaping Azkaban.  With a start, the history professor realized that his best friend was shaking.

"I'm not planning on dying, you idiot!  I'm just not leaving until you're gone!" Sirius shoved him again, eyes intense.  "Now, _go!_"

Three steps and he was there; Remus shot one last look over his shoulder, praying that fifteen seconds would not be too long—then the fire engulfed him, and he was gone.  His last glimpse was of the door exploding inwards, and of Sirius' wand coming up.

----------------------

**Author's Note:   Okay, sorry to leave you with another cliffhanger…I swear I don't do it on purpose.  Honestly.  This is just where the chapters fall…and yes, I'll update soon.  Again, I promise.  In other news, thanks for all the reviews—and no, I won't kill Sirius.  And obviously, I didn't kill Remus…I'm not quite that cruel (in this story, anyway).  Well, stay tuned for the return to Hogwarts—and what happens when Voldemort gets rather angry.  Thanks for reading, and please review!**

**            Also, thanks to all the wonderful people who read _Promises Unbroken_.  That should be updated tomorrow (Thursday 27FEB02).  If you haven't read it, please check it out at .  Thanks!**


	23. Dawn

**DEATH BEFORE DISHONOR**

Chapter Twenty-Two: Dawn 

The Great Hall had become a madhouse.  Awakened by his dreams, Harry had gone looking for Sirius, only to find Professor McGonagall in his godfather's place.  When she had told him that Sirius, Remus, Snape, and Mrs. Figg had gone into Hogsmeade, which was under attack, Harry had felt like screaming.  Moments later, Professor McGonagall had led him into the Great Hall, seemingly understanding that he simply _couldn't _go back to bed, and the refugees had started to come through the fireplace.

Within minutes, most of the school had gathered in the hall.  The youngest students were immediately sent away, of course, but the older ones were pressed into service, helping Madam Pomfrey sort the seriously wounded from the frightened, and calming families who were still searching for their loved ones.  Harry, Ron, and Hermione (joined shortly by Fred, George, and Ginny) were busily helping the school nurse, who had her hands quiet full of patients.  Since none of them had studied the healing arts in depth, the most they could do was hand out potions (liberated from Snape's office by Professor McGonagall, who seemed to know all the right passwords for some reason), and hold peoples' hands.  Even the Slytherins were helping, between snickers they let out when they thought no one was watching.

Dumbledore himself was healing people, which led Harry into wondering if there was _anything _the old man couldn't do.  He wasn't as efficient as Madam Pomfrey (Harry had to wonder if anyone was), but he was definitely effective.  Most of the other professors were with him, healing where they could, and administering potions or organizing the evacuees where they couldn't.  Others, including the Weasley family grown-ups, were also working hard.  Professor McGonagall was by the fireplace, pulling people to their feet and out of the way, because it hadn't taken them long to realize that someone new would come out of the fire every fifteen seconds.  Professor Flitwick was elsewhere, checking the castle's defenses, but the rest of them were all there.  A gasp ran through the hall, though, as Madam Rosmerta came through the fire.

"I'm the last evacuee," she explained as McGonagall helped her up.  A hundred voices immediately asked her what was happening, and she blinked before replying.  "Professor Lupin and Professor Snape both went down just as I was leaving."

Suddenly, Dumbledore was there.  McGonagall asked, "Down?  How?"

Harry rushed forward.  There were no new patients to deal with if Madam Rosmerta was the last, so he could afford to do so; Hermione and Ron were right on his heels.

"I don't really know," the witch started to reply.  "They were trying to—"

Arabella Figg tumbled out of the fireplace and rolled to her feet with an agility that such an old woman looked out of place having.  She looked pale and drained, but her eyes were hard.  "They're coming."

Snape was next, but he came through with far less grace.  As Dumbledore hauled him to his feet, the Potions master shook his head as if to clear it, looking even paler than Arabella had.  His face was tense, and he was definitely in pain, but he pulled away from the Headmaster.

"How bad is it, Severus?" Dumbledore asked quietly.

"Disastrous."  His voice was still dry, but it seemed less sarcastic than usual.  To the side, Harry noticed the Slytherins perk up, staring at their Head of House curiously.  Some, like Malfoy, looked vaguely worried, but whether that was from concern for Snape or for those Snape was undoubtedly fighting against, Harry did not know. 

Madam Pomfrey moved towards Snape, then, a look of concern on her face, but the Potions master waved her off.  She scowled, doing an admirable impression of the oily man in the process.  

"Save it," Snape said gruffly, but he never had a chance to say why before Remus Lupin came flying out of the fire and crashed right into the Potions master's legs.  They went down together in a tangle of limbs and cursing (most of which, Harry was sure, came from Snape, since he'd never heard Professor Lupin curse).  Mrs. Figg and Professor McGonagall immediately moved forward, pulling both men up to their feet.  Harry noticed right away that Lupin was the same washed-out and weakened color as the Potions professor, and looked just as unsteady on his feet.  Still, both moved forward out of the fireplace's range.  They exchanged a meaningful look, and Lupin nodded.  Harry held his breath.  Seconds ticked by, and everyone waited for Sirius.

Finally, his godfather plunged out of the fire, rolling immediately to his feet and making Harry sigh in uncontained relief.  Hermione's hand, which he had not realized until then was tight on his shoulder, relaxed.

"Close the portal off," Sirius rasped, his voice tight and hardly recognizable.  "They're not far behind me—" But Dumbledore was already there, sealing off the network with a word.  

Then Sirius collapsed.

Half of the students rushed forward in that moment, and Harry found himself caught in a throng of young witches and wizards babbling on about their professor.  Without any regard for others' feelings, though, Harry pushed his way through the crowd, backed by Hermione and the Weasleys, who understood how important it was for him to reach his godfather.  By the time he got to Sirius' side, Dumbledore, Snape, Remus, Madam Pomfrey, and Arabella were already there.  Remus was shaking his unconscious friend.

"Sirius?  Sirius!" Harry's godfather remained motionless as Madam Pomfrey asked Snape,

"What happened?"

Arabella scowled and demanded, "What did he _do_?"

"Brevisalvum Mali," Snape replied.  "Some sort of Auror healing—"

Harry had never heard such foul words come out of a woman's mouth, and he didn't even _know _half of them, but it ended in "…stupid bastard!"

Remus was still shaking Sirius lightly, but he stopped when Dumbledore laid a hand on his shoulder.  "He will not wake up for quite awhile, Remus," the Headmaster said softly.  "It will be best if you let Madam Pomfrey take him to the Hospital Wing."

The History professor looked up and nodded, rising and conjuring a stretcher with a flick of his wand.  Slowly, Sirius' pale form was lifted onto it, and under Professor Lupin's direction, the stretcher left the hall, Madam Pomfrey right beside it.  Harry swallowed, wanting desperately to follow, but not knowing if he would be allowed to.  He looked at the Headmaster, and Dumbledore smiled.

"I think, perhaps, that you and Severus ought to go as well, Arabella," the Headmaster said quietly.  "And take Harry with you."

Harry sat anxiously as Madam Pomfrey bent over Sirius.  Since he had Dumbledore's permission to be there, the nurse could not exactly kick him out of the Hospital Wing (no matter how much she seemed to want to), but she had sternly regulated him to a chair in the corner, and threatened to make him leave if he said so much as a peep.  Her harsh glares, however, had somewhat less effect on Sirius' older visitors; Remus simply ignored her, and Snape didn't seem to care.  Mrs. Figg stared intently at Sirius' face, still scowling, until Madam Pomfrey asked,

"Will someone please explain this Brivesalvi Nalium business to me?"

"Brevisalvum Mali," Arabella Figg corrected the nurse in a low voice, "is a quick-heal spell used by Aurors in desperate situations.  It will heal almost any injury, _temporarily_, and make the body able to function normally.  The spell is used rarely, however, because it has a terrible effect on the caster once it wears off."

"What does it do?" Pomfrey asked worriedly.

"Eventually, the spell unravels, leaving worse injuries behind than existed in the beginning," Figg replied unhappily.  "You see, Brevisalvum Mali doesn't actually _heal _anything; it just makes the mind and body think the problems are healed.  The spell usually lasts around an hour, but if the caster exerts a lot of energy during that time, the effect tends to be shorter."

"He was a mess when he cast it," Snape suddenly interjected, and Harry looked at the Potions master in surprise.  "And after that, things only got worse."

"The ward line probably is what finished it off," Remus said unhappily  "At the last moment, he dropped the barrier he'd created so that he wouldn't go out like we did"—the history professor gestured at himself and Snape—"but then he did something else.  I don't know what.  Regardless, he put too much into this."

Surprisingly, Snape shook his head.  "No, he disagreed softly.  "He just did what had to be done."

Hours passed.

Sirius' chest rose and fell, his breathing shallow and face pale.  There were several times when Harry thought his godfather might wake, when his breathing would quicken and his body would begin to shake, but those moments always passed.  Sirius remained unconscious, even as dawn broke over Hogwarts and the sun began to stream through the windows.  Classes, however, did not resume that morning; Hogwarts had become a refuge, with, at last count, two hundred and thirty-seven extra witches and wizards (children included) inhabiting the castle.  Providing beds, food, and medical care for all those people was what had caused Professor Lupin to finally leave his friend's bedside with a sad smile in Harry's direction, and a quiet promise to return.  Then there was quiet.

His godfather's features were gaunt, but unless Harry was mistaken, he was gaining color.  The process was slow, but Sirius was unmistakably less pale than he had been when he'd dropped into unconsciousness.  Madam Pomfrey had left hours ago, after doing all she could for him, but seemed that no one, even Arabella Figg, was able to predict how long Harry's godfather would be unconscious.  The spell Sirius had used was a tricky one, she had told Harry, and the effect it had on him depended greatly upon the caster itself.  The longest any Auror had stayed unconscious after using it, though, had been a little over a day.  _That's not exactly encouraging_, Harry thought, trying to fight down an irrational fear of losing Sirius.  Even Dumbledore had assured Harry that Sirius would be all right, but it was hard not to be afraid.

Sirius was the only family he had.  The Dursleys didn't count; it was with Sirius, over the past several months, that Harry had learned what family really was.  Family didn't hate you for being what you were.  Family listened to your troubles, helped you with your homework.  And family was there when you needed them, just as Sirius had always been for him.  _And now I'll be here for him_, Harry thought to himself, praying that Dumbledore was right.  _Let him be okay,_ he pleaded.  _Let him wake up._

Suddenly, Sirius stirred, and even as Harry began to hope this might be for real, his blue eyes flew open with astonishing quickness.  Sirius blinked once, scanning the room anxiously and then focusing immediately on Harry.  He smiled slightly.  "Hey, kid."

"Hi."  It was really a stupid thing to say, but Harry couldn't get any other words past the humungous wave of relief that was busy washing through him.

"You've been sitting here for awhile, haven't you?" his godfather asked quietly.

"Ever since they brought you in here," Harry admitted.  "I was worried."

"I'm sorry."  Harry opened his mouth to tell him not to apologize, but Sirius continued, "They did tell you the spell I used isn't fatal, right?"

"Yeah."  Harry smiled sheepishly.  "But I just wanted to be here…"  He didn't know how to explain.

"Thanks."  His godfather seemed to understand.  However, Sirius sat up cautiously, making Harry frown.

"Should you be doing that?"

His godfather chuckled.  "Probably not," he grinned.  "But who's here to stop me?"

"Are you feeling better?" Harry asked, inwardly marveling that such a powerful wizard could act like a mischievous little kid on such short notice.

"Yes, I am."  In fact, his face was almost a normal color, now, except for the hint of pain still in his eyes.  "Madam Pomfrey would probably argue that, but I've dealt with worse."  He shrugged lightly, but Harry couldn't help but remember the story Sirius had told a few days before in Dumbledore's office.  He hadn't asked Sirius about what had happened to him, but Harry knew that he and Professor Lupin had talked about it, which seemed to have helped.  

"I'm glad," he said quietly, not wanting to bring the subject up, especially since Sirius seemed so determined to leave it in the past.  His godfather, though, must have seen the concern on his face.

"I'm sorry that I worried you, Harry," Sirius repeated.  "I seem to keep doing that."

"I'd rather be worried about family than not have any at all," Harry replied immediately.  That, of course, was a huge understatement.  "So, will you tell me what happened?  Professor Snape said something about you knocking Voldemort out?"

"Did I?" Sirius' eyebrows rose.

"He said his mark stopped burning."

Sirius snorted.  "Well, I had hoped to, but I never thought I'd succeed.  I knew he was distracted, but…" 

 "But how did you do it?  I mean, that's Voldemort.  Not everyone can do that." 

"I suspect it was luck more than anything, Harry," Sirius said honestly.  "As wizards go, I'm fairly powerful, but it would require a lot more than me to take Voldemort down."

Classes still did not resume the next day.  Instead, students and teachers alike were pressed into further strengthening the castle's defenses, and everyone was assigned certain areas to go to if an attack should come.  After the morning in the Hospital Wing, Harry barely saw Sirius at all; his godfather was busy scouring the castle and grounds, usually at Dumbledore or Snape's side, but sometimes also with Professor Lupin.  But Sirius was not the only one busy enhancing the wards around the castle; Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, for example, had been tasked with casting dormant sealing spells on each and every door in the castle, all of which could be activated with a single word.  Such defenses probably would not slow Voldemort down much, but if there were Death Eaters inside the castle, Harry knew that the Hogwarts staff would need all the advantages they could get.

That evening, the Hogsmeade refugees were evacuated on the Hogwarts Express.  Some had wondered about the danger of doing so, but Dumbledore had insisted, and a great sigh of relief passed through everyone's lips when news came through that the refugees had safely reached London.  Arabella Figg had been tasked with escorting them there, and according to Sirius, she would also be gathering all the former Aurors she could find to bring to Hogwarts.  It was no longer a question of if Voldemort was coming; now it was merely a matter of when.  Hogsmeade had been destroyed, and thus Hogwarts was isolated.  

The Ministry of Magic, under the temporary directorship of Arthur Weasley until a new Minister of Magic could be selected (every poll in every paper claimed that it would be Dumbledore, who had so far not said _no _to the position), was still reeling.  Everyone knew that it would be at least a week before the Ministry could gather its resources, and even then, no one knew what would happen when they tried to fight back.  In fact, no one even knew what Voldemort was doing, aside from licking his wounds.  No one even knew where he was.  Not even Harry, for his scar had not hurt since the attack on Hogsmeade.  Snape's Dark Mark, however, had resumed its steady burn before Sirius had even awoken in the Hospital Wing, so they knew that the Dark Lord was alive and well.  He was just biding his time.  But he was coming.  It was only a matter of time.

Voldemort was coming to Hogwarts.

They tightened the defenses.  They built in extra wards and traps for the unsuspecting.  The teachers taught offensive curses that they would not have dreamed of doing otherwise, and the students slurped them up like good Butterbeer.  The oldest students, especially those above the fourth and fifth year, were under no delusions.  They knew that the Death Eaters outnumbered the Hogwarts staff by at least ten to one, and that meant the students would be fighting.  So they listened, and they learned.  The school had become a second home for most of them, and they were not going to see it fall.  So, side by side, the teachers and students readied Hogwarts for a siege.

But in all their preparations, they forgot one tiny thing.

When Draco Malfoy received a package in the mail the next morning, no one paid attention.  The owl post, after all, was one of the few normal events still transpiring at the school.  Worried parents depended on it to ensure that their children were all right—many, of course, had demanded that the students be sent home, but the Hogsmeade refugees had filled the Hogwarts Express, and Dumbledore had flatly refused to allow the train to _return _to Hogwarts once it had left.  He would not lower the school's defenses to do so, and besides, the children would make the train a target.  The headmaster had rightly guessed that Voldemort did not care about the Hogsmeade refugees; their escape was simply anther vehicle with which to spread terror.  Those people had been hurt already.  The Dark Lord was moving onto bigger game.

Thus, when Malfoy opened up a small bag that was filled with coins, no one noticed that six of the coins looked a little different from the others.

----------------------

**Author's Note:   I'm sorry that I've taken longer than usual for this chapter; I was away all day Friday and Saturday.  I realize that some people have wondered why Harry hasn't gotten in much trouble this year, and the answer to that is coming in the next chapter—trouble will indeed find him in a very big way.  So stay tuned for the rest, and in the meantime, please review!**


	24. Attack

**DEATH BEFORE DISHONOR**

Chapter Twenty-Three: Attack 

Harry awoke to blackness.  Screaming.

_"Lily, take Harry and go!  It's him!  Go!  Run!  I'll hold him off—"_

_"Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!"_

Harry's eyes flew open to see the gray and scabbed form of a Dementor.  He found himself staring into empty eye sockets and the gaping hole of a mouth—his mother screamed in his ears as rotting hands reached for him—

_"Stupefy!" _a harsh voice commanded, and he saw no more.

"It's begun," Dumbledore said softly to the assembled staff.  It was the dead of night, but all of them had been alerted when the outermost wards were tested.  None had been breached, yet, which meant that the castle and grounds were still safe, but all knew it would only be a matter of time.  Since they were unable to ring the entire grounds with unbreakable wards (which was simply a matter of too much distance), generations of Hogwarts headmasters had concentrated the defenses on the castle itself.  None had ever expected to face an all-out attack by Dark wizards, but then again, stupid wizards did not become the Hogwarts headmaster, either.  Nor did the overconfident.

Tense expressions matched his own.  Every professor was present, as were Molly, Percy and Charlie Weasley (Arthur and Bill were still at the Ministry, struggling to make sense out of that mess)—except for Sirius Black.  Several pairs of eyes, the foremost of which belonged to Remus Lupin, glanced around the room for him, but he was nowhere in sight.  Dumbledore, however, was continuing.

"For now, let the students sleep," the headmaster said quietly.  "This may be the last good night's worth of sleep they have for some time.  Until then, I want everyone to keep his or her eyes open, and report _anything _that may seem out of the ordinary.  Minerva, tell Molly, Charlie, and Percy the basis of our defenses; I am sure you can figure out how to employ them best.  Remus, I want you to recheck all the secret passageways.  In the morning, you can enlist the help of Fred and George Weasley, who I'm sure know those passages nearly as well as you do.  Severus, I want you to watch over your Slytherins—I know that you don't want to believe any of them guilty of striking against this school, but we can't afford to be careless.  Argus, I want you to check all the classrooms for anything suspicious at all.  Sirius—"

Only then did he notice that the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor was missing.  Immediately, Dumbledore's eyes snapped to Lupin.  "Where is he, Remus?"

"I was hoping you knew," he answered in a whisper.

The gathered professors looked at one another fearfully.  A thousand thoughts crossed the minds of those present, but suspicion was not one of them.  Fear, however, was something they all felt, Remus Lupin most of all.  He had spent too long without his friend to contemplate losing him again.  The mere thought of that was enough to kill him.  The headmaster was staring at him, but Remus could do nothing but stare back.  He didn't know.  He just didn't know…

"Belay what I said last," Dumbledore said heavily to Remus.  "Find—"

The staff room doors burst open, and Sirius Black strode in, intense fury and fear etched into his handsome features.  He spoke without preamble. 

"Harry is gone."

Pain.  His scar was burning.

Harry felt like his head would burst upon awakening, and he knew that could only mean one thing.  Even though he did not want to, Harry forced his eyes open to look into the face of Lord Voldemort.  Red eyes burned into his own.

"Harry Potter," the harsh voice hissed.

Harry took a shaky breath.  "Voldemort."

His defiance seemed to amuse the Dark Lord; he laughed.  As his opponent did so, Harry took a moment to glance around himself.  Only then did he realize that he was tied to a chair with magical chains that were hot and painful against his skin.  The chair was inside a smallish room, in Hogsmeade, he guessed; on second thought, it looked like Honeydukes.  That thought made him remember the secret passage and glance around fearfully, and sue enough, standing next to the door leading down to the cellar was Wormtail.  Peter Pettigrew.  The one man who knew how to get into Hogwarts unnoticed…but there had been Dementors.  He remembered Dementors!  He remembered hearing his parents' voices, hearing his mother screaming… Suddenly, he thought of Ron, Neville, Dean, and Seamus.  He hoped they were all right.

A cold hand suddenly gripped his chin, and his scar exploded with pain.  "Now, now…" Voldemort chuckled.  "Don't look at my poor Wormtail with such hate.  He's been very helpful, haven't you, Wormtail?"

"Yes, Master."  Pettigrew bowed, his silver hand shining.

Harry swallowed his hatred as best he could, turning to face Voldemort once more.  It was hard to look at Wormtail and not think of his parents.  Without Wormtail's betrayal, his parents would never have died, and Sirius would never have spent twelve years in Azkaban…

"Awfully quiet, aren't we, Harry?"

"I don't have much to say to you," Harry replied, surprised at his own daring.  His head was spinning; it was hard to concentrate.  Why, then, was he still mouthing off to the most powerful Dark wizard in the world?

"Ah, but that is not how the game is played," Voldemort replied lightly, finally releasing Harry's chin.  "Be polite, boy, and ask me how I succeeded in breaching the _unbreakable_ Hogwarts defenses."

Angering Voldemort, Harry had once learned, was not a way to survive.  Fear suddenly gripped his mind.  Were the others all right?  Was he alone?  Did they even know he was gone yet?  "Fine," he snarled.  "How did you manage to get me?"

 "A very simple matter of smuggling Dementors into the castle, transfigured into innocent and harmless coins… You will be pleased to know that your classmate, Draco Malfoy, has been in my service for quite some time."

_Malfoy!  Why am I not surprised?_  The Junior Death Eater club, as he, Ron, and Hermione had taken to calling Malfoy and his groupies, must have decided to join the Dark Lord's service on a full-time basis, after all.  He scowled.  _What if Dumbledore doesn't know?_ Harry suddenly thought.  _They're still in the castle!  They can do all kinds of things for Voldemort on the inside!_  But suddenly his worries did not matter, because it seemed the Dark Lord had tired of conversation.

_"Crucio!"_

And there was agony.  Although he'd experienced the Cruciatus curse, Harry had discovered it wasn't something that one got used to over time.  He couldn't help but scream; there was no resisting as every nerve ending began to burn, as every part of his body felt like it was going to be torn apart from the inside out.  His body was jerking helplessly in his chains but could go nowhere.  He felt like his head was going to implode, felt like his scar had become a deep chasm digging into his skull… Harry screamed.  And screamed.  And screamed.

Finally, it ended, and through the red haze of pain, he heard Voldemort laughing.  "Open your eyes, Harry," the Dark Lord said softly.  "I know you're still awake."

He hadn't even realized that he'd closed them.  For a moment, Harry considered resisting the command on principle alone, but he realized that wasn't worth the pain it would bring.  Slowly, he opened his eyes and looked at Voldemort.  The Dark Lord's red eyes were gleaming.

"Tell me, Harry Potter, why you think I wasted my one chance to breach the castle's defenses on you."

_One chance?_  Harry's brain was working slowly, but after a moment he realized that Voldemort was right.  Dumbledore would surely find out, and then the Dark Lord would never get into the castle again, no matter what kind of help he had.  Obviously, Wormtail and the Dementors—Harry still shuddered to think of them—had been smuggled into Hogwarts, yet they had gone for him.  No one else.  Just him.  Fear tried to rise again, but Harry shoved it down.  He couldn't afford to be afraid.

"Because you have to kill me," he said quietly.

"Have to?" Voldemort laughed.  "No, dear boy, I just _want _to kill you.  At the moment, though, you are simply bait."

"Bait?" Harry croaked.  _Oh, no…_

Voldemort moved away, toying with a wand in his right hand—_that's my wand!_ Harry realized with a start as he stared at the Dark Lord.  "Oh, yes," Voldemort said softly.  "You are bait.  Nothing more, nothing less.  Do not flatter yourself into thinking you are more important than that, Harry Potter.  _Crucio!_"

The pain was as unexpected as it was horrible.  Harry screamed, buckling in his chains, torn not only by the curse, but also by the knowledge that his presence was endangering others… But the pain took over, and it was hard to think of anything but agony and despair, agony and despair… It was hard to breathe, impossible to think.  He felt as if his body would explode, and the pain went on.  The chains constricted as his body jerked harder, but all Harry could do was scream, both from the torturous pain of the Cruciatus curse and from the red-hot enchanted chains.  Finally, when it stopped, he slumped in the chair, gasping for air.  Still, though, he could not escape Voldemort's mocking voice.

"You scream nicely, Harry," the Dark Lord sneered.  "I toy with you… You are nothing compared to one such as myself.  In the end, history will view you as a minor inconvenience, and as an example to all those who were foolish enough to resist me."

Harry could have cried, then, had he been any weaker.  But pride and heart would not let him.  He managed to whisper, needing to know, "Who…?" 

Again, the high-pitched laugh came, and the only answer was pain.

Harry must have blacked out, because when he awoke, Voldemort was leaning over him.  Instinctively, Harry recoiled away from the other, wanting nothing more than to escape the Dark Lord, but there was nowhere to go.  He was still chained to the chair, still stuck in Honeydukes.  With despair, he realized there was no escape.  He was going to die there.  Red eyes gleamed as Voldemort smiled.  "You wish to know who you are bait for, Harry?"

"Yes," he whispered.  There was no use denying it, but he shuddered as Voldemort touched his face once more.  His scar burned, and he wanted to scream, but he didn't feel he had the strength to do so.  _It hurts…_

"In truth, I am not very particular," the Dark Lord whispered.  "Either the great Muggle-loving Dumbledore or your bothersome godfather will do.  They will come, and then you will die."

The students were gathered in the hall that morning, frightened and worried, but none more so than Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, who had awoken to find their best friend gone.  In Ron's case, he had come to, along with the rest of the boys in his dormitory, without ever knowing that he had been stupefied.  For Hermione, it had been Ron's shouts that had awakened her, all the way in the girls' dorm, and she had rushed into the Gryffindor common room to find a furious and frightening Sirius Black striding out of the tower, having just discovered that his godson was missing.  It had been Sirius who awoke Ron and the others when he'd first heard of the attack on the wards and gone to check on Harry.  He hadn't said a word as he stalked out, presumably to tell Dumbledore.

They hadn't seen any teachers except for Hagrid, ever since the half-giant had been sent to bring all the students into the Great Hall.  It was rumored that Professor Dumbledore would come and speak to them soon, but so far, all the teachers were still busy seeing to the castle's security—and, presumably, looking for Harry.  Hermione was scared to death for her friend, and knew by the look on Ron's face that he felt the same.  Right now, they stood off to the side with Ron's siblings, unwilling to engage in any of the wild speculation running throughout the hall.  Harry was missing.  Nothing else mattered.

However, events took an interesting turn as Sirius Black and Severus Snape swept into the Great Hall side by side, heading directly for Malfoy's group of Slytherins.  The two men normally could not have looked more different, but at the moment, they were very much alike.  Both wore identically controlled expressions, and moved with the same long and sweeping strides.  As they approached the Slytherin fifth and sixth years, though, Sirius slowed a bit and allowed Snape to take the lead as the Potions master stopped in front of his student, with Sirius standing a few feet behind.  The contrast between them began there, because Snape's face relaxed every so slightly, while Sirius' became more tense, as if he was holding onto his temper by force.  His eyes were dark, and his hands, from what Hermione could tell at that distance, were shaking.

"Where is he, Draco?" Snape asked softly.

"Who?" Malfoy responded innocently, looking up at his head of house with wide and confused eyes.  He blinked, then, seeming truly confused.  Hermione and Ron crept closer.

 "Potter."  Snape's voice remained idly curious.

The blond haired Slytherin stared at the Potions master.  "I don't know what you're talking about, Professor.  Why, I…"

"Tell me now, Draco.  This is no time for games."  Snape's voice took on a bit of an edge, earning an exasperated reply from his student.

"How should _I _know?  It's not like I'm his friend—"

His response was cut off by anger flaring in the professor's eyes.  Then, unbelievably, Snape grabbed him by the collar, snarling, "Foolish boy! Do you think I'm blind?  Tell me how Voldemort got into the castle!"

"I don't—" Malfoy's voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper.  The entire hall was watching.  Ron and Hermione couldn't believe what they were seeing.  Was Snape actually threatening _Malfoy_?  Was he actually looking out for Harry's safety?  It had been one thing to know that the Potions professor was on Dumbledore's side, but it was quiet another to see this.  "I don't think that I ought to tell anyone, even you, sir…I mean, anyone could hear it here…"

He clearly thought Snape was still a Death Eater.  Hermione almost gasped in surprise, but Ron clapped a hand over her mouth to prevent her from doing so.  She couldn't believe that Malfoy didn't know… Wouldn't his father have told him?  _I guess Death Eaters just don't advertise it when they leave_, she thought.  Then her heart leapt.  If Malfoy thought that Snape was still working for Voldemort, maybe he'd tell him what had happened… Obviously, the same thought had occurred to Snape.

"I don't care what you think, Mr. Malfoy," he said silkily.  "I asked you a question, and I require an answer."

Malfoy peeled out of Snape's grip.  "I'm sorry, Professor," he replied quietly, his chest puffing up importantly.  "I was told that I can't reveal it to anyone."

 "To _anyone_?" the Potions master challenged, arching his eyebrows expectantly.

The Slytherin's eyes glowed with self-satisfaction, but there was a shadow of doubt there, too.  After a second's hesitation, Malfoy began to smile, but was cut off by Sirius' hard voice.  

"We don't have time for this, Severus."

Snape glanced over his shoulder, and the two professors exchanged a meaningful look.  The Potions master nodded ever so slightly, but Sirius' expression did not change; his pale features looked as if they were etched in stone.  He was showing no emotion, but Hermione wondered what that cost him.  Snape's voice became very soft.  "I suggest you answer me, Draco."

"Or what?" the young man demanded, encouraged by his professor's gentle tone and mistaking it for acceptance.

"Or I will not be responsible for what happens," Snape growled softly.

Malfoy blinked.  "You wouldn't dare."

 "You're right, I wouldn't…although not for the reasons that you think." Snape smiled grimly.  "But he could."

Malfoy's gaze flew to Sirius' expressionless face as the ex-Auror stepped forward, radiating more power and anger than Hermione had thought possible.  It brought her memories back to that night in the Shrieking Shack, when they had all been terrified of Sirius Black and convinced that he was a mass murderer…but this was different.  He wasn't the starved, haunted and gaunt escaped convict anymore.  Now, he was an Auror, implacable and deadly, and able to kill.  The change from the lighthearted and mischief-making professor was lost on no one in the hall, least of all Malfoy.

"My father would kill you," he whispered.

"Your father, young man, is not someone I fear," Sirius replied with a hard snort.  "And you will find yourself quite alone right now.  There is no one here to protect you.  You have already all but admitted your guilt…and I realize that working as Voldemort's spy may a certain _allure_ for you, but you will find it a very dangerous business."

"I don't know what you're talking about."  Draco's voice was shaking slightly, and Hermione almost felt sorry for him.  If Sirius had been looking at her that way, she would have been scared, too.

"Are you sure about that?"

"You can't threaten a student!"  That, at least, was true.  Suddenly, Hermione had to wonder if Professor Dumbledore knew Sirius and Snape were doing this.  It seemed highly unlikely that he would allow this to happen…unless Malfoy really had done something that let Voldemort's agents into the castle and enabled them to kidnap Harry.  _But who else could it be?_ she asked herself sternly.  _It has to be Malfoy._

But Sirius only turned to Snape.  "Do you want to, or shall I?"

"I suppose I ought to," the Potions master replied coolly, reaching inside his robes with his left hand and holding up a small vial of clear liquid.  "You know what this is, Draco?"

But Malfoy was staring fixedly at Snape's left hand—no, Hermione suddenly realized, he was staring at Snape's left _forearm_.  She suddenly realized that the Potions master had used that hand to remove the Veritaserum from his robes for this exact purpose: as he held up the potion, his sleeve slipped down around his elbow, exposing the Dark Mark for all to see.  Malfoy clearly recognized it.  He gaped.

"But you're…" Snape nodded ever so slightly.

"I was.  A very long time ago…before I learned the difference between what is right and what is easy.  I had hoped that was a lesson I could impart upon my students, but if that has failed, Draco, there are other lessons you can learn.  For the final time, answer me.  Tell me how Voldemort has breached the castle's defenses, or I will use this potion."

Very quietly, Malfoy began to talk.  As he told the story, Hermione stared at him—how could he knowingly bring five Dementors and Peter Pettigrew into the castle?  How could he do such a thing?  What if Wormtail had decided to go for someone other than Harry, and had simply released the Dementors to suck as many souls away as they wanted?  She shuddered, then, wondering how much control Voldemort really had over Azkaban's former guards.  What had he promised them?  Finally, though, Malfoy finished his tale, but before either professor could talk, another voice came as its owner strode quietly into the room.

"Now we know."  

"Professor Dumbledore!" the Slytherin gaped.  He'd never been very respectful towards the headmaster, but at the moment he looked relieved to see him.  In fact, Draco looked ready to rush to the old man's side but a raised hand stopped him.  Dumbledore's eyes had none of their familiar sparkle, and he was frowning.

 "Do not look to me for protection, Draco," the headmaster said quietly.  "I am sorry to hear of your choice, but that does not extend to excusing it.  Your actions have endangered a great many people, some of whom have done no more against Lord Voldemort than the innocent Muggles that he hunts."  Malfoy started to reply, but again, Dumbledore's raised hand stopped him.  "You will be in no danger here, but that is all I can promise."

He turned to Snape, his eyes turning sad for a moment.  "Severus, if you will take care of those whom you know are against us…?"

"I will."  The Potions master seemed sad, but he nodded.  "As per our previous arrangements?"

"Yes."  Dumbledore turned to the other black-haired professor.  "Sirius, I would like to speak to you when I am done here…and before you run off and try to get yourself killed, I think there is something I might say to make you wait."

"I doubt it," Sirius replied darkly, murder dancing in his eyes.  "But I will listen."

"And that is all I can ask."  The headmaster nodded, and then turned to his students.  "As I am sure all of you know by now, Hogwarts' security was breached last night.  Although I can assure you this will not happen again, it is best that everyone remain on his or her toes for the time being.

"I also regret to inform you that Hogwarts is under siege."

A frightened murmur swept through the hall, but Dumbledore's steady gaze killed it even as it began.  That did not keep Hermione's heart from leaping into her throat, however, and she exchanged a worried glance with Ron.  _Hogwarts?  Under siege?_  Everything she had ever read told her that was impossible, but Hermione knew that Dumbledore wouldn't lie.  War had come to Hogwarts.  The headmaster continued.

"Accordingly, all classes are canceled.  Students are not to move around the castle, expect when escorted by a professor.  For the time being, everyone will sleep in the Great Hall; your Heads of Houses will take you to the appropriate dormitories soon so that you can gather anything you may need for the foreseeable future.  By the end of today, each of you will be given a job to do to ensure the castle's security, and no matter how small that task is, I hope you will perform it diligently.  As I have said before, we are only as strong as we are united, and together we will ensure that Hogwarts will not fall."

"God help me, Remus, if I see him again, I'm going to kill him."

"I know, Sirius."  Lupin sighed.  "Me, too."  That was a hard truth not to ignore, and even though Remus had never wanted to be a killer, Peter Pettigrew seemed to be a mighty good place to start.  "But you can't just go running off half cocked—Dumbledore is right.  You _will _get caught, and then where will we be?"

Sirius was pacing the room like a madman.  "You don't know I'll get caught."

"Really?"  It was hard to restrain himself to just that one word and a raised eyebrow, but the murderous look that Sirius gave him made Remus pause.  He knew Sirius loved Harry as a son, and understood his friend's determination to save him—and not fail Harry the way Sirius felt he'd failed James and Lily.  _When will he understand that wasn't all his fault?  He had no way of knowing that Peter was the spy!_  Pain welled up in Remus, remembering, and he understood, too.  He'd spent the last years wondering what he could have done differently to save them, and he knew Sirius did the same.  Only Sirius had had twelve years in Azkaban to run through nothing but the worst memories in his head.  Of course he hated feeling helpless.   The silence, however, was unnerving.  Simply to fill it, Remus commented weakly, "Your office is a wreck."

"I don't care."

"Sirius, you've got to listen to reason—" _Even if it does stab like a knife._

"Fuck reason."

Remus never cursed.  He made a practice of not doing so, in fact, unless the situation _really _warranted it.  But this one certainly qualified on all counts.  "Dammit, Sirius!" he snarled.  "I care about Harry, too, but I'm not letting it blindly!  If you do this, you're going to play right into Voldemort's hands!"

"Listen, Remus—" Sirius wheeled on him.  "There are few things in this world that I'm good at, and waiting isn't one of them!  I can't just sit here and let Voldemort hurt Harry—and don't you even _try _to tell me he isn't, because we both know that's a lie!"

"You think I can either, Padfoot?" Remus demanded.  "But that doesn't change the fact that it's the right thing to do!  We can't afford to take chances.  Not with Harry's life."

The worst part about it was that they were both right.  Remus was only better at listening to reason over his emotions…something that Sirius had never been good at.  One of Sirius' greatest strengths was his loyalty—but it could also be his greatest weakness.  Sirius would gladly die for Harry, Remus knew (just as he would), but at the moment, that would get them precisely nowhere.  They had to wait.  They had to trust Dumbledore.  Even though it was killing them both.  His last words, though, finally did have the desired effect.  Sirius deflated.  He stopped pacing.

"And then what?" he asked bitterly.  "We do nothing?"

"We wait," Remus replied.  "We have to."

As always, Sirius was unpredictable—and always on one of two extremes.  He swung into motion again, startling even Remus, and grabbed a book off of his desk.  In a second, the book crashed into a mirror (which had probably once belonged to Lockhart and had never been removed) and sent shards of glass flying everywhere.  The words exploded out his old friend.  "I _hate _waiting!"

And then Sirius deflated again, slumping wearily against his desk.

"Me, too," Remus whispered.

----------------------

**Author's Note:   Thanks again for reading…please keep doing so, and please keep reviewing!  I can't give you a clue about what's coming, because that would spoil the plot…but stay tuned.  And for all those who are reading _Promises Unbroken_, I apologize for the lack of updates…the next part of that should go up tomorrow.  Thanks again!**


	25. Siege

**DEATH BEFORE DISHONOR**

Chapter Twenty-Four: Siege 

Dementors were prowling outside the walls of the castle constantly, hundreds of them casting their dark shadows over Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  Already, several students had taken sick, either fainting or simply becoming so dizzy that they were unable to function, and Madam Pomfrey was working madly to counter their effects.  Chocolate, of course, helped some, but with so many Dementors so close by, it was hard to even think about fighting them all.  And their presence made any thoughts of escape grow cold.  Every secret passage had been sealed from the inside, now, and the one leading to the Honeydukes cellar that Wormtail had used to lead the Dementors out of the castle, had been re-warded as well.  There was no way out—but more importantly, there was no way in.

There seemed nothing to do but wait.  Wait, and hope, as a wise man once said; the Death Eaters, led by Voldemort, tested the wards constantly, and there were always at least a dozen Dark Wizards prowling around the grounds.  Those wards had been the first to go, of course; within the first twenty-four hours, every magical barrier that extended from outside the walls had been torn down like paper.  Voldemort's power was indeed growing.  To many, he seemed unstoppable, which was why Malfoy and his friends gloated, even though there was no one to hear them, locked as they were down in the more comfortable dungeons.  Snape had seen to that.

Dumbledore really should have been meeting with the staff to discuss these issues, but instead he was with Sirius Black, who was pacing the headmaster's office like a caged animal.

"I don't like it," the younger man snapped.

"Nor do I," Dumbledore admitted.

"Then why the _hell_ do you propose to do this?" Sirius thundered.

The headmaster took a deep breath.  His plan was harder for him than Sirius knew…but maybe that was doing the other man an injustice.  Sirius knew that Dumbledore cared for Harry.  Intellectually, he understood that.  It was just that Sirius had to put Harry first…whereas Dumbledore had too many responsibilities to fulfill them all.  _And he is right_, the old wizard told himself sadly.  _If this does fail, Harry will most likely die._  "Because it will work."

"You don't sound too certain of that."

"I'm not," Dumbledore admitted, looking Sirius in the eye, which, even for him, was hard.  "But I do know Voldemort…or at least I did, once.  I hope that means I can predict him.  He won't kill Harry, not yet…"

"And when he gets sick of playing games?" Harry's godfather demanded.  "You and I both know that he will.  He's not going to dance to your tune forever, you know."

_He isn't, _Albus thought to himself.  _Because I never meant for him to get Harry.  The rest of this I expected, but Harry… God, let me be right about this._  Sirius' expression was still furious, but also was very pained, which made Dumbledore hate what he had to say.  "Harry's strong, Sirius," he said quietly.  "You know that.  He'll hold on."

"He shouldn't have to." The former Auror's eyes softened, and it occurred to Dumbledore that he'd never thought to argue his own role in this affair.  _Brave man_._  Harry needs him._

_And I'm not going to let either one of them die._  "I know," Albus replied heavily.  "I know."

He was beginning to understand how Sirius must have felt in Azkaban.  After Voldemort's initial torture session, the Dark Lord had seemed to get sick of gloating, and Harry had been moved into Honeydukes' cellar, where he was out of the way but still, "awaiting the Lord's pleasure", as Lucius Malfoy had put it.  Random Death Eaters, however, came down at odd intervals, seemingly given permission to prove to themselves that Harry Potter was only human, so he'd had very little time to himself.   To the best of his knowledge, an entire day had passed, and there had been no sign of anything from Hogwarts.  Voldemort had only come down once in that time; apparently, he had bigger fish to fry.  When he'd visited, however, the Dark Lord had taken great pleasure in telling Harry that everything was going exactly as he had planned.

That meant that Harry was on his own.

And at the moment, he was alone, so he decided to make the best use of his time once he awoke from another pain-induced bout of blackness.  He glanced around the cellar again, just to make sure, but there was no one down there.  Harry wasn't sure what he could do without a wand (last he'd seen, Voldemort had his, which infuriated him), but he had to try.  He couldn't just sit there and be bait for Sirius or Dumbledore, and do nothing while his friends were in danger.  He had to do something.

Shifting slightly, Harry tested the magical chains that bound him, and almost yelped out loud.  They burned!  Grimacing, he tried to move even less, just to see if they had any give at all, but there was nothing.  Unfortunately, the chains seemed kind of intelligent (which, given that they were magical, probably wasn't a surprise), and they didn't stop burning, even if he moved very little.  Harry scowled, and then gave a mental shrug.  _Well, if that's the case…_  He hesitated.  If he was wrong, he was going to end up in a world of trouble.  _Think realistically, Harry.  You're already in a world of trouble!  It can't get much worse!  _Suddenly, he grinned, even though he felt a bit mad doing it.  _What do I have to lose?_

Bracing himself, Harry yanked his right arm upwards.  He had to bit back a yowl of pain, and his vision went all sorts of watery, but the chains gave.  After giving himself a moment to recover, he stared at them.  The magical chains holding his right arm to the chair hadn't come off…but they were definitely looser.  _Maybe this will work, after all,_ he thought with amazement.  _I wonder if Voldemort realizes that these stupid things aren't infallible.  _He snorted.  _Then again, I don't think anyone else has ever been stupid enough to try that._  Harry screwed up his face and jerked his arm up again.  When the pain faded, and his vision cleared, he chanced a glance at his arm.  It was almost loose.

Harry took a deep breath and tasted blood.  He must have bitten his tongue that last time as he struggled to keep quiet (it just wouldn't do to have them hear him and ruin everything, after all), but in the grand scheme of things, that hardly mattered.  It was working!

Another yank and it was done; his right arm was free.  Harry could have sang in triumph, but he had no desire to be found out.  Quickly, he went to work on his left arm, trying to ignore the pain.  He had to hurry.  He didn't know how long they'd leave him alone.  If he could just get free and slip into the passageway…he knew it would be blocked from the Hogwarts end, but the closer he was to the school, the safer he would be…if only he could get there.  Harry doubled his efforts.

In the middle of the Great Hall, Snape suddenly went down with a cry.  While Ron hated the Potions master with a passion, he knew they were all on the same side, so he headed in that direction, unlike many of his classmates, who simply stood and stared.  He didn't have time to examine the irony of the sitiuation when he was the first to reach Snape's side.  "Professor?"

Snape was on his knees, pale, shaking, and clutching his left forearm.  "Bastard…" he hissed through clenched teeth.

"Professor?" Ron wasn't quiet sure what was happening, but he was positive it had something to do with Snape's Dark Mark.

The ex-Death Eater shook his head to clear it, although his face was still tight and pained.  "Weasley…" he snarled.  "I'm fine."

Scowling, Snape levered himself to his feet, only to sway and collapse once more.  Ron caught him.  "Somehow, Professor, I don't think that's the truth."

"Shut up."  But the usual venom was absent from Snape's strained voice, and Ron almost laughed.  _Somehow, I don't think you'll be giving me detention right now._  Snape was definitely shaking.

"What is it, sir?"

Surprisingly, the Potions master opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by a sharp peal in the air.  Then Professor McGonagall's voice split the air.

"ATTENTION ALL.  THE COURTYARD HAS BEEN BREACHED.  ALL STUDENTS ARE TO REPORT TO THE GREAT HALL IMMEIDATELY.  ALL TEACHERS ARE NEEDED AT THE FRONT ENTRANCE."

Snape let loose a string of curses that even Ron didn't know.  He didn't even think half of them were in English—but then the Potions master was gone, sprinting out the doors to the Great Hall and towards the attack.

It was chaos outside.  Hermione had been caught in the courtyard when the attack had come, and had immediately run for the closest professor, which had turned out to be her own head of house, Professor McGonagall.  The deputy headmistress had swung immediately into action, and after the announcement, Hermione had rushed to the Great Hall, only to find the doors locked and warded so well that she would never make it through.  Nervously, she glanced around, unsure of what to do, but knowing she couldn't stay there.  Finally, she spotted Professor Snape's back as the Potions master sprinted away from the hall, going towards the school's front doors.  Hermione ran to catch up.

"Professor!"

He skidded to a stop.  "What are you doing here, Granger?"

"I couldn't get into the Great Hall," she answered hurriedly.  "The wards—"

Snape cursed under his breath.  "Well, I can't take the wards down now."  He cursed again.  "Come with me."

"What—?"

"Just come!"  He grabbed her arm, dragging her forward, and suddenly they were in the front entranceway to the castle.  The doors were open, and Hermione could see outside, where the sky was dark gray and moving figures dotted the lawn.  _Oh, my God… are those…?_

"What is she doing here, Severus?" McGonagall demanded, turning in their direction.

"I set the wards as I left the hall," Snape explained.  "She was too late."

"Oh, dear—are there any others who are outside the Great Hall?" the deputy headmistress asked worriedly.  Snape looked at Hermione.

"I don't think so, Professor," she replied.  "I think I was the only one who wasn't there already.  I was coming back from Hagrid's house; he and I were working on—"

"Very well," McGonagall cut her off with a stern frown.  "I suppose it cannot be helped.  It's a good thing you're one of the best in your class…  Stay here, Hermione.  Defend yourself if you must, but _stay inside the castle._  If we succeed, they will never make it this far."  

Hermione didn't want to think about what would happen if they _didn't _succeed, so she only nodded.  "I understand."

Movement suddenly caught her eye, and she noticed two new figures rushing across the courtyard, side by side.  They came from a different direction than the front doors, from the right side of the castle, and both were moving with wands raised, straight towards the middle of the fray.  Between the attackers and the doors, Hermione could see one teacher go down—she thought it was Flitwick, judging from size, and saw another bending down by his side.  That looked like Professor Vector, and as red light flashed in the sky, she recognized the running pair as Remus Lupin and Sirius Black.  Snape cursed. 

"They're leading with Dementors," he breathed as new forms suddenly swept into view with inhuman speed.  "Fool!  Dark wizards he can deal with, but Dementors will be the death of him!"  And then McGonagall and Snape were gone, rushing through the doors with their wands out.

There were hundreds and hundreds of Dementors; even from so far away, Hermione felt cold inside.  To the far side, though, Sirius and Lupin were the closest—and suddenly, she saw Sirius falter.  He stumbled, but she saw Remus grab his arm as the Dementors came nearer.  Silver shot away from the pair, and Hermione squinted, trying to identify Professor Lupin's Patronus, but could not.  It seemed to have eight legs and two heads…but then she realized it was not just one Patronus, but two: a wolf and a dog.  Then two more silvery forms appeared directly between the doors and the Dementors: McGonagall's eagle and Snape's raven.

Voldemort's inhuman creatures fled under the quadruple onslaught, but Hermione did not even have time to breath a sigh of relief.  There was still a battle raging in the courtyard.

Briefly, she wondered if she should close the doors, but before she could even figure out how, it occurred to her that if Professor McGonagall had wanted the doors shut, she would have told her to do so.  Hermione frowned.  Wouldn't it be better to close the doors?  Wouldn't that just give them an extra layer of defenses?  Coldness swept through her again, and she thought she understood.  If Voldemort made it that far, no doors were going to stand in his way.  If her teachers failed, closing the doors would only become an exercise in futility. 

Bright lights were flashing in the courtyard, and she could see battle lines forming.  Enemies were still approaching from the gates, one at a time, and at a very slow rate.  The line of Death Eaters was larger than the professors' but not by much, not nearly as much as it should have been.  _Is this just a test, or are some elsewhere?_ she wondered.  Hermione shuddered.  If the Death Eaters hit in two places and the professors were only defending one… But there was no time to think of that.  She felt so helpless, though, sitting there and watching.  There was nothing she could do—Hermione would not dream of ignoring Professor McGonagall's commands—and she hated it.  All she could do was watch.

A wall of fire suddenly burst into the center of the Death Eater ranks, and she heard people screaming.  The Dark wizards scattered, trying to escape the inferno.  A streak of green power suddenly aimed at McGonagall as she cast spells by Snape's side, but the Potions master tackled her and dragged her to the ground as the killing curse flashed over their heads.  Hermione gasped, but both were up in a moment, and fighting once more.  Sirius and Remus had circled around next to them, and she could see communication passing along the line of professors.  White light flashed, then, and she saw the Death Eater spells begin bouncing off an invisible barrier between the professors and the enemy.

A thunderclap split the air, and she heard screams.  The courtyard gates suddenly seemed to glow momentarily, and she saw the two Death Eaters in their immediate vicinity go down, unmoving.  Only then did she hear the footsteps rushing up behind her.  Hermione spun, wand in hand—and came face to face with the headmaster.  _Why isn't he with the others?_

"Professor Dumbledore!"

But the ancient wizard ignored her as his long strides carried him outside.  Turning back to the battle once more, Hermione saw that the professor's invisible wall seemed to be cracking—until Dumbledore raised his wand, still running, and said a word of power.

Thunder rumbled again, and the invisible wall held.  Dumbledore joined the line, which began moving irrevocably forward, pushing the Death Eaters back.  Soon, the Death Eaters had neared the gates, but they were sealed.  Hermione watched one of the Dark wizards turn and attempt to open them, only to fall either unconscious or dead.  The Death Eaters' formation contracted upon itself as they moved closer together for protection, but Hermione saw both Sirius and Snape break free of the professors' line, and each head towards the Death Eater flanks.  The number of Death Eaters now equaled the number of teachers, if one did not count the unmoving ones scattered across the lawn.

And if you ignored Flitwick's motionless body lying not far from the castle doors.  Hermione tried not to think of that.  She hoped he wasn't dead.  He had always been one of the nicest of the professors.

Suddenly, one of the Death Eaters dove for the gates, clearly hoping to somehow break past the enchantments binding them.  He, too, went down, and Hermione watched the other Death Eaters move still closer.  That, however, was when Snape and Sirius went to work, and the enemy line faltered once more.  _They can't get out, _Hermione realized. _ They're cornered._  From the look of them, the Death Eaters knew it, too; they were fighting defensively, now, and Dark magic simply wasn't tailor-made for self-defense.  But why were there so few Death Eaters?  And where was Voldemort?  That, of course, opened up a whole new line of questioning, like how they managed to get into the courtyard in the first place.

As Hermione watched Snape dive out of a curse's path, she realized that neither he nor Sirius was protected by the shield the other professors had erected.  Both wizards, however, kept firing spells at the gathered Death Eaters, and she saw enemy after enemy go down—until Snape suddenly staggered (even though she was sure nothing had hit him) and started to go down.  Lupin, however, darted out of the professors' line and grabbed the ex-Death Eater's arm, half-dragging, half-leading him behind the others.  The Potions master, she noticed, was holding his left forearm—and Sirius was alone on the right flank, without anyone opposite him to gather the Death Eater's attention on the other side.  But the ex-Auror did not flinch, and she watched him continue calmly as Lupin left Snape's side and took up position on the left flank.

Magic crossed in the sky too quickly for Hermione to follow, but inexplicably, Sirius and Remus stepped back into the line after only another minute or so.  Then, however, everything stopped, and there was stillness.  She heard Dumbledore speaking to the few remaining Death Eaters (who were now greatly outnumbered by the professors), and slowly, she saw them lower their wands. They were surrendering.

The first battle of Hogwarts had been won.

Harry worked furiously to free his left leg—he heard angry voices upstairs, and heard screaming, which meant that some Death Eater had displeased Voldemort immensely, and it meant he might have a little time…but he had no idea how much.  All he knew was that he had to act quickly.  He was weak and lightheaded from the burning pain due to this last manacle, but he couldn't quit now.  He was so close… _Got it!_

Kicking his leg free of the chains, Harry bolted out of the chair.  He was free!  Quickly, he glanced around the cellar, but he was still alone, and the screams were continuing upstairs.  Unfortunately, no matter how hard he searched, he saw nothing that might have been useful.  No weapons.  No wands.  Nothing but himself.  _Oh, well, _he thought.  _I've been worse off, before.  _Harry sucked in a deep breath, trying to still his spinning head.  He was still sick with pain; he had lost count of how many Death Eaters had put him under the Cruciatus curse, but he knew that his strength was fading fast.  Breaking loose of his chains had proven harder than he had initially realized…

With a start, Harry realized that he'd almost collapsed.  _Get a grip, Harry!_ he scolded himself.  _You'd look really dumb if you break yourself loose only to collapse on the floor and wait for them to recapture you._  Gritting his teeth, he headed for the trapdoor.  He could only hope that when he reached the other end, one of his professors could find him before Voldemort realized he was gone.  Very carefully, he hauled the trapdoor upwards.  _Geez…I don't remember it being this heavy,_ he thought dizzily.  Finally, though, Harry forced the trapdoor open and staggered down the stairs.  It was getting hard to see straight, but he managed to close the trapdoor above himself, even though it landed with a little bit harder thud than he intended it to.  Breathing hard, Harry stopped to listen but heard nothing new.  The screams continued.

And Harry headed down the passageway.

"What's the final report?"

"We have nine alive, three of which are unconscious.  All are secure in the dungeons," Snape replied.  Then he frowned reprovingly.  "One of the ones you hit lived." 

"Macnair?" Snape nodded, and Sirius shrugged.  "I wasn't aiming to kill that time."

"Why ever not?"

"I have a feeling that he knows plenty of things that we would like to find out," Sirius replied.  He felt calmer now.  It was a sad and sorry fact, really, that killing Death Eaters had gotten some of the fury out of his system, but it had.

The Potions master studied him for a moment.  "You surprise me sometimes, Black."

"Why's that?"

"Twenty years ago, I wouldn't have thought you capable of such foresight."

Sirius grinned.  "Twenty years ago, I would never have imagined speaking civilly to you."

"True."  Snape shrugged.  "How is Ravenclaw taking Flitwick's death?"

"As well as can be expected," Sirius replied quietly.  He could only imagine how the loss of their Head of House brought the war home to the Ravenclaw students…they had faced their first loss.  How many more would come before the end?  With an effort, he pried his mind away from such morbid thoughts.  There would be plenty of time for that later.  He smiled slightly.  "However, we Gryffindors find ourselves in an interesting position after your saving Minerva's life.  It seems some of that Gryffindor-Slytherin hatred may have been placed on the back burner, eh, Severus?"

"Don't count on it," the other snorted, and Sirius chuckled.  "Did you talk to Albus about what created the opening in the wards?"

The ex-Auror nodded.  "Apparently, it's a very old and very Dark spell that more or less transforms an individual into a ward-breaker.  As long as that person stands in the opening, others can get through."

"Slowly, it would seem," Snape commented.

"Quite.  Regardless, once Albus eliminated the ward-breaker, the spell collapsed, and so did the opening.  While you and Remus were securing the prisoners, the headmaster and I integrated defenses against that type of magic into the wards.  It won't work again."

"Good." Snape scowled, running a hand through his greasy hair.  "I wonder what unwilling sod Voldemort forced into becoming the ward-breaker."

"I don't think I want to know."  It went without saying that the person in question was dead.  Dumbledore hadn't had a choice.

"Me neither."  The two men stood in silence for a moment, each thinking their own thoughts about what was to come.  The professors might have beaten back the initial attack, but that only restored the status quo.  Hogwarts was still under siege, and the next battle would not go so easily, whenever it came.  Finally, Snape continued, "You realize, Sirius, that we can't hold these Death Eaters forever."

"I know."  The only fool proof way to confine wizards ever found was through the use of Dementors, and Sirius didn't even want to think about that.  Seeing them earlier had been bad enough—if Remus hadn't snapped him out of it, he did not know what might have happened.

"Voldemort is patient enough to wait us out," the Potions master persisted.  "And unless Dumbledore's got a plan, it won't take long before defending this school becomes impossible."

Sirius scowled and felt the familiar pang.  "Oh, he's got a plan."

"Care to enlighten me?" Snape's eyebrows shot up.

"Ask him," he growled, and the other wizard looked at him perceptively.

"You don't like it," he commented.

"No," Sirius said shortly.  "I don't."

Harry stumbled down the stone stairs, struggling to see in the darkness.  Without his wand, he had no way to create a light, which made his life difficult in more ways than one.  First, he had no way of avoiding running into walls or falling down the stairs; second, the darkness made him sleepy.  Even though Harry knew that he couldn't afford to sleep, it was hard to resist the urge to lie down and rest—just for a little while.  He was so tired…  The after effects of Voldemort's torture were starting to become worse.  If there had been light, he'd have doubted that he could see straight, but at least the darkness saved him from that.  He certainly _felt _dizzy, though.

A sudden noise made him jump.  Footsteps.  Someone was coming.

Harry quickened his pace, flying down the stairs.  The sound was coming from behind him, which meant it came from the direction of Honeydukes—and Voldemort.  While he didn't think that the Dark Lord would chase Harry down himself, Harry knew that any Death Eater would be bad.  If he had a wand, Harry would have been fairly confident in his abilities, but alone, weak, and unarmed, he didn't stand much of a chance.  Of course, that didn't mean that he wouldn't try.

Trying to force his muddled mind to come up with a plan, though, was hard.  A few completely ludicrous possibilities came up, but he discarded them quickly.  Doing something stupid was almost as bad as doing nothing at all—both would only get him caught.  Briefly, he toyed with the idea of hiding, but that went out the window, too.  Whoever was chasing him had magic.  He did not.  Hence, a three year old could have figured out what the consequences of hiding would be.  _Even Dudley would understand them, and that's saying something. _What could he do?  Reaching the bottom of the steps, Harry began to run, knowing that he could at least put distance between himself and his purser until he figured out what to do.  But the pounding footsteps only got louder.

Desperately, Harry plunged around a bend, wishing he could estimate how far it was to Hogwarts.  If only he knew how much further he had to go…but there was no use wishing.  He knew he wouldn't make it—and in his despair, an idea struck Harry.  It was stupid, and the odds of it working were probably less than zero, but at least it was something, and doing anything was preferable to surrendering quietly like a baby.  Anything was better than just giving in.

Harry skidded to a stop and started feeling at the tunnel's stone walls, searching for an alcove of any sort.  Finally, he found a one; it was very small, but just large enough for him to squeeze his shoulders into.  He hoped that his purser was in too much of a hurry to notice him right away in the shadows.  Perhaps they'd not notice him at all… Harry held his breath, listening.  The footsteps echoed in the tunnel making it hard to judge distance, but they were coming closer, and closer.  It was almost time.  That thought made his heart pound in his ears, but Harry found a strange calm settling in.  He felt better now; it was nice to not feel like a victim or like Voldemort's discarded toy.  It was good to be in control of his own destiny.  The footsteps grew louder.  Closer.  _Almost time_.

A faint glow filled the tunnel, and he knew his opponent was using magic for a light.  Harry could not tell who it was without exposing himself, but he knew from the pace with which the other moved that it was not Voldemort.  Harry didn't think Voldemort had run anywhere in years.  His ego would never support the effort—_Concentrate, Harry!_  The other was a few steps away.  Suddenly, he was in front of Harry, unaware and unsuspecting—

Harry launched himself out of alcove and at the other wizard, colliding hard and brining them both to the ground.  There was a mad scramble, and the light went out—_He dropped his wand!_  With desperate strength, Harry smashed an elbow into the other, aiming for his face but ending up hitting him in the stomach, judging from the muffled gasp.  His fingers scrambled over the dirt floor, searching for the dropped wand.  _If I can get the wand, I actually have a chance!_  Harry's fingertips touched wood, then a hand grabbed his shoulder and yanked, pulling him away.  Blindly, he swung and missed, but could tell from the hand on his shoulder where his opponent was, and Harry struck more carefully that time, contacting with flesh.  The other yowled, and his grip loosened.

One leap across the floor, and his fingers met wood.  Twisting, Harry brought the wand up.  _"Stupefy!"_

There was a red flash, and in its light, Harry saw the other wizard go down.  The _thud_ when his opponent hit the floor confirmed it, and he struggled to his feet, suddenly realizing that he was shaking.  _I did it_, Harry told himself.  _And now I have a wand._  A grin split his face, and he started to turn away until he heard a very Hermione-like voice in his head.  _Really, Harry, now that you have a wand, you might as well _use _it for something._  But his grin only widened.  _"Lumos."_

A ray of light jetted from the wand, and Harry Potter looked at the figure lying unconscious on the floor before him.  It was Peter Pettigrew.

----------------------

**Author's Note:   First off, allow me to apologize for the lack of updates.  I intended to update over Spring Break, but my parents' good computer crashed, leaving me with only Microsoft Works to write in…and it's impossible to make a readable .html file out of Works.  However, I have been writing, and today is a double update—all of who you have been reading _Promises Unbroken _can take a walk over there because I posted the next chapter there, too.**

**Before I go, I'll answer a question that a few of you have asked—Harry is not just bait for Voldemort.  However, Voldemort tells him this for two reasons: 1. He knows that his plan is likely to work and 2. Voldemort's ego is too big to admit that Harry is a threat to him.  Think about the books; he keeps telling Harry that there is "nothing special" about him.  Sure, he needs to kill Harry, but he's not going to say that to his face.  That being said, thanks again for reading, and please review!**


	26. Tactical Withdrawal

**DEATH BEFORE DISHONOR**

Chapter Twenty-Five: Tactical Withdrawal 

For a split second, Harry hesitated.

He started at Wormtail.  Stared at the man who had betrayed his parents, who had damned his godfather to twelve years of hell in Azkaban.  He stared at the man who had resurrected Voldemort and had plunged the magical world into fear and darkness.  For one moment, he allowed himself to dream about _what might have been_.  It certainly wasn't the first time he'd dipped into that particular realm of fantasy—heck, as a child, he'd spent lonely hours on end dreaming about what his parents might have been like—but this time was different.  He was staring at the man he had stopped Sirius and Remus from killing, and he wondered why.  Harry wondered why he had stopped them at all.

And he wondered if he shouldn't finish the job. 

His hand tightened on Wormtail's wand.  It would be so easy.  Two words, and his parents would be avenged…two little words, and the entire magical _world _would be avenged on Peter Pettigrew.  It was so tempting…but then he remembered Dumbledore's words.  The headmaster had said that someday he'd be thankful for saving Wormtail's life, which hadn't so far been true, but still could be.  And he also remembered his own words about how he didn't think his father would have wanted Sirius and Remus to become murderers just for Peter.  _What about me, Dad? _he thought to himself.  _Would you want me to avenge you?_  Harry's heart hit rock bottom as he thought of a face that he remembered only from pictures.  _No, _he knew.  _Dad wouldn't want me to, either._

With a sigh, Harry turned away.  This wasn't over, but Peter Pettigrew wasn't his to kill.  Not now.

"I can't believe you got to watch the battle," Ron grumbled.  "It must have been brilliant."

"Ron, grow up!" Hermione snapped.  "It was dangerous—Professor Flitwick died!  Is excitement all you can think about?"

"No.  I was just saying—" Ron felt his stomach drop.  Somehow, he always managed to make her angry, saying things that he hadn't meant to say…and expressing himself in all the wrong ways.  He took a deep breath and swallowed his pride.  "Look, I'm sorry, Hermione.  I didn't mean it like that.  I just was worried about you, that's all."

Her face abruptly changed from angry to understanding, and she smiled.  "I understand, Ron," Hermione said quietly.  "I'm worried about Harry, too."

_I'm not talking about Harry, you dumb girl._  "Yeah," Ron agreed.  "I hope he's okay.  And I'm glad that you are, too."

"Thanks.  I'll stay closer in the future, okay?"

"You'd better," Ron growled.  _Because I'm not losing you too._  But he forced a smile.  "Anyway, what do you think of what Professor Lupin said earlier?  Do you really think they'll let us fight?"

"I don't know, Ron," she sighed.  "I mean, it seems so dangerous to bring us into this—but we are a part of the war already, aren't we?  And Hogwarts is our school, too.  If Professor Dumbledore thinks we can help, I'm willing.  Hogwarts is worth fighting for."

"And I'd rather make a difference than sit here and hide," he agreed quietly.

Hermione smiled sadly.  "Me, too.  I just hope it doesn't come to that."

"No kidding."  Ron swallowed; suddenly it was hard to breathe.  "You know, Hermione…no matter what comes, I'll be proud to face it—with you."

She stared at him, her eyes widening.  Finally, just when Ron thought he'd really screwed this one up, she replied, "And I with you, Ron.  I'm glad you're my friend."

_Friend.  What a mild word for this insane pounding in my heart._

Every step brought him closer to Hogwarts.

But his feet were moving slower.  It was getting harder.  He was so tired…with a start, Harry bounced off one of the walls.  He'd stumbled and run into it without even realizing in the darkness.  Of course, he could have used Wormtail's wand for light, as he had earlier, but Harry didn't think he could chance doing so.  If someone else wasfollowing him, the light would alert them to his presence.  It was better to stay hidden, even if it meant running into things.  _Sure, Harry, _an obnoxious little voice in his head commented, _keep telling yourself that.  Of course you're running into things because it's dark.  That has _nothing _to do with the fact that you're dead on your feet._  

He stumbled.  Harry couldn't think of a part of his body that didn't hurt.  But he was getting there.  He really was.  Hogwarts couldn't be much further, now…and if it was, Harry didn't want to know.  He wasn't sure how much further his body would let him go, and he didn't know any useful healing spells, or at least nothing that would help him at the moment.  In some ways, he was glad for the dark, because at least then he couldn't see his hands shaking.  If anyone had asked him, Harry would have denied it, but he was honest enough to admit to himself that he was exhausted.  His breathing was loud even in his own ears, and it was getting hard to make his legs move.

But "quit" wasn't a word that Harry Potter had ever included in his vocabulary, and he wasn't about to start now.

He was concentrating so hard that he almost didn't hear the second set of running footsteps coming from behind him.  He almost missed everything, but at the last moment, Harry's Quidditch-trained reflexes served him well, and as he heard the voice, he threw himself to one side, watching light and power splinter in the air.  The voice was masculine, recognizable; it matched the silhouette illuminated in the slight glow of the other's wand—but he didn't have time for thought.  Only for reaction.  What was it that Sirius had said?  _"In the real world, rules don't apply.  Trust your instincts."_  And so he did.

_"Expelliarmus!"_

There was an enraged grunt, then a curse, and the light disappeared.  But nothing else happened, and Harry was smart enough to know that his spell hadn't worked, which meant that whoever he was facing was a very powerful wizard who'd been expecting the attack.  The next words, spoken in a harsh voice, were enough to confirm that suspicion.  _"Imperio!"_

But the darkness was his friend.  All on its own, the spell missed, and Harry quickly cried, _"Impedimenta!"_

He didn't know if it worked.  Harry only turned and ran.  He made it one step, then two, and finally a third and fourth.  The fifth made him think that he might actually make it, might escape Voldemort's clutches and whatever awful plans the Dark Lord had for him.  As his feet pounded on the dirt floor, a sense of triumph began to surge within Harry—

And his mind could not react quickly enough as Lucius Malfoy cried, _"Stupefy!"_ and all the world went dark.

They were too late.

The moment the dot labeled "Harry Potter" appeared in the Honeydukes tunnel, Remus had headed straight for the one-eyed witch.  He'd sent Fred Weasley to fetch Sirius and Dumbledore, and had taken George with him (both Weasley twins had been the ones on watch over the Marauder's Map and the Gatekeeper's Guide, duties for which they were uniquely suited), but the wards took time to unravel.  Too much time—they'd been painstakingly built so that even _Dumbledore _couldn't pull them down with a word, because there was no way that a Death Eater and Dementors were going to worm their way into the castle again.  Now, however, those precautions had turned against them.

Even as Dumbledore finally brought the wards down (in much less time than they had been designed to go, too, which meant that the headmaster would have to rebuild the wards he had just destroyed), the dots labeled "Lucius Malfoy" and "Harry Potter" went still.  Then Remus cursed as the two began rapidly moving back down the tunnel towards Honeydukes.  They would never catch them.

"Let's go," Sirius said quickly, ducking into the passageway.

Remus gestured at the map, feeling sick.  The Weasley twins stood on either side of the History professor, looking as angry and heart-broken as he felt.  _We've failed Harry.  _"It's too late."  

"Perhaps not."  Dumbledore's blue eyes glittered coldly.  "There may still be time."  The headmaster disappeared into the tunnel as well.

Part of Remus wanted to snap back, _time for what?_  However, he restrained himself.  He'd hoped once, earlier, that they might be in time, and now it was so clear that they couldn't be…but Dumbledore was right.  And Remus didn't know how to quit any more than Sirius did, especially where Harry was concerned.  Quickly, he slipped through the one-eyed witch's hump, followed by Fred and George, who he would never have dreamed of telling to stay behind.  Besides, he was sure they wouldn't listen.

The group sprinted down the passageway, led by the light from Sirius' wand.  Although the ex-Auror set a quick pace, Remus was surprised to see that Dumbledore didn't have a problem keeping up—but then again, the old headmaster was full of surprises, and Remus had never known him to fail at anything.  So he followed close on the headmaster's heels, acutely aware of Fred and George behind him, and praying that he was wrong.  Unfortunately, the fact that he held the Marauder's Map in his hand did not do much to convince him of that, and as Remus glanced at it one more time, he could see, even in the dim light, that Malfoy had almost reached Honeydukes, whereas they were still not even half way there.  A dozen steps later, Harry was out of reach, back in Voldemort's domain, and Remus opened his mouth to let the others know when Sirius let out a startled curse.

Remus skidded to a stop to avoid running into Dumbledore, who had apparently smashed right into his friend's back when Sirius had come to a halt without warning.  The reflexes of Fred and George Weasley, too, proved inadequate, and they slammed into Remus, who staggered but caught himself quickly.  The twins went down in a tangle but recovered and jumped to their feet as Sirius snarled over his shoulder, "Thanks for the warning, Remus."

There was a thunk as the ex-Auror kicked something—hard, by the sound of it.  Remus moved forward to see what it was, then was struck by a thought, and glanced back down at the Marauder's Map.  Sure enough, there was another dot in the passage, labeled "Peter Pettigrew."  Rage welled up within him as the wolf bayed for his old friend's blood, but Remus smacked it down, looking once more for Harry.  That suspicion, too, was correct.  He was gone.  The history professor could have pulled out the Gatekeeper's Guide to make sure that Harry was still in Honeydukes, but he didn't want to bother.  He just didn't want to know.  

Finally, Remus stepped up beside Dumbledore.  "They're gone," he said quietly.

"I thought as much," the headmaster confirmed.

Sirius, however, sighed, making Remus look at his friend.  Sirius' face was illuminated harshly in the light from his wand, making him look paler than he should have been—but there was no mistaking the murder in his blue eyes.  Oh, he had it under control, unlike that night in the Shrieking Shack, when Sirius had been anything but _controlled_, but the hatred in Sirius' expression was a twin for the rage that Remus had so ruthlessly suppressed only moments before.  The werewolf knew that his friend was thinking exactly what he was, too.  _This bastard killed James and Lily.  He's the reason that Harry has no parents.  He betrayed us all, forsook our trust—and he's the reason why Harry's life has been hell.  _

_Bastard.  I loved you like a brother._

_James loved you.  Lily loved you.   Sirius loved you.  Harry would have loved you—and this is how you repay years of friendship and trust!  We promised to be loyal until the end, brothers because family isn't defined by blood, and here you are.  I'd kill you if it would bring James and Lily back.  In a heartbeat._

Sirius' rattling breath brought him back to reality, and Remus knew how hard it was for his friend to keep his voice level.  "Should we bring him back with us?"

"Yes," Dumbledore nodded.  His voice was quiet as he mumbled the spell that caused the unconscious Death Eater to hover in the air.  "Peter may yet be of use."

_At the very least, he owes us answers._

Harry awoke to pain, and he knew that he'd been caught.  His scar was burning, and that could only mean one thing.  It took his foggy mind a moment to remember what had happened, but then it all came back to him in a rush—the feeling of success, running away, Malfoy's voice, and then blackness—he groaned.  He'd failed.

"Good morning, Harry," the mocking voice hissed.  "I'm so glad to have you back with us."

For a moment, he contemplated keeping his eyes closed and acting like a little kid (_If I can't see him, he can't see me, right?_), but it would have been no use.  Acting like that would have been beneath him, too, so Harry forced his eyes open to stare at Lord Voldemort. "Sorry if I can't say the same."

_"Crucio!"_  

Pain.  Harry had been expecting it, but of course, that hadn't stopped him.  Maybe it hurt, but it felt good to stand up to Voldemort.  Doing anything less would have dishonored his parents' sacrifice.  Abruptly, it ended.

His throat hurt from screaming.

"Harry, Harry…when are you going to learn manners?"

_Never._  But he bit his tongue.  Responses would get him in trouble, and his throat hurt too much to manage anything witty.  So Harry just stared at the man who had been his enemy since before he was old enough to understand why.  He'd almost made it, and he wasn't going to break.  Not in this lifetime.  Not ever.

"I can see you're proving less than cooperative," the Dark Lord hissed angrily. 

"Oops."  Harry couldn't stop himself.

It might have been funny if it hadn't hurt so much.  The next few minutes was a blur—in truth, Harry didn't even know how long it had been; it could have lasted hours—but in the end, Voldemort handed him over to Lucius Malfoy and another group of Death Eaters, who were to be responsible for his "lessons" in manners.  It was hell. 

"Hello, Peter."

Peter awoke on a bed, unrestrained—for a moment, that led him to think that he was back in his own home, or even inside the rooms he had taken in Hogsmeade—but the quiet and dignified voice that had spoken robbed him of all hopes.  Slowly, he opened his eyes, staring at the seated wizard with fear.  It was Dumbledore.

Peter sat up, glancing quickly around the room.  As far as he could tell, he was in some of the castle's guest chambers; the furnishing was nice, tasteful, and ornate, typical of Hogwarts—but the room had no windows.  He noticed that immediately.  Obviously, they didn't want him taking flight all of a sudden, and had made sure that the door was the only way out.  Nervous, he glanced that way, but saw that the door was shut.  In fact, there was no one else in the room.  Only Dumbledore.  He was alone with the only wizard that the Dark Lord had ever feared.  He was a prisoner.  The old man was watching him closely.  Surely, they expected him to talk.

"Welcome back to Hogwarts," the headmaster said calmly.

Peter took a deep breath to calm himself, and said quickly, "Whatever you want from me, I won't tell you anything."

The old man smiled, which for some reason, made a shiver run down Peter's spine.  "There is nothing I want from you, Peter," Dumbledore replied.  "Although there are some that I feel certain you owe answers to, I am not among them."

"Don't let them near me!"  Fear seized up in his throat.

"Why not?" the headmaster wondered idly.  "Do you think they would harm you?"

"They tried to kill me!"  He wished his hands weren't shaking.  _I'm going to die.  Sirius is going to kill me.  Remus is going to kill me.  _There was no avoiding it, he knew.  _Dumbledore is going to let them._

"So they did."  The piercing blue eyes hardened.  "Yet they were stopped by the boy whose parents you betrayed…a boy you have now delivered into Voldemort's hands."  Peter shivered as Dumbledore spoke the Dark Lord's name without so much as flinching.  The headmaster's lips curled into an ironic smile.  "An admirable way of fulfilling your debts, eh Peter?"

Peter squirmed nervously, unable to meet that gaze.  "You don't understand."

"Make me understand."  There was nothing gentle in the voice now.  Peter had never been frightened of Albus Dumbledore before this moment, had never seen the old man at the height of his powers—but now the hard demand made him shiver.  He almost responded, almost spilled everything, but then he remembered.  He remembered what he was, who he owed his loyalties to.  Peter Pettigrew had thrown away his ties to the light side of magic over fifteen years ago when he had betrayed James and Lily Potter.  Everything he had lay on the other side.

"No," he said uneasily.  "I owe you nothing."

"Very well."  Dumbledore rose.  "You will find that I am a kinder host than your master.  You will come to no harm while you are in my care."  The old man had reached the door; his hand was on its knob.  "You will remain here until it ends, one way or another."

He had to ask, but his voice came out in a shaky whisper.  "Why?"

"Because I am not Voldemort.  Nor are your former friends."  Peter didn't know why, but he winced at the word _former_.  He'd trusted them once, been trusted…it had been so long ago that he'd forgotten what it was like to be cared for.  The memories of his school days were tattered and faded like a cloak that had been neglected and forgotten for so many years.  Intellectually, he knew the life he had taken on could never equal the one he had given up, but he had to believe that he'd chosen the right path, the winning side.  Peter was tired of being the sniveling and whining underdog.  He was tired of having others protect him.  He wanted to have others fear _him_ for once.  He didn't want to have to hide.

Dumbledore opened the door.  "Oh, and Peter—thank you."

"For what?"  He knew he was staring stupidly at the headmaster, but he couldn't help himself.  Why was Dumbledore thanking him?  But the old man smiled, and his eyes glinted like sharpened steel.

"For carrying Harry's wand in your pocket.  I don't know what Voldemort was thinking, giving that to you, but I assure you that it will be put to good use."

----------------------

**Author's Note:   Hello once more…I'm back with my own computer, so I should be back on the updating every three days schedule.  There aren't too many chapters left to go, but here's the next one.  For those of you who are interested and/or worried, no this isn't turning into a romance…but there isn't anything that says such things can't happen.  Stay tuned for "Mortality" and please review!**


	27. Mortality

**DEATH BEFORE DISHONOR**

Chapter Twenty-Six: Mortality 

Thunder rocked the Great Hall.

However, if looking upwards at the enchanted ceiling, one would notice that outside it was a perfectly clear and gorgeous night, without a cloud in the sky.  There was no physical storm to shake the castle.  There was no weather phenomenon that could have done so, anyway, not with the layers of wards and defenses that had been integrated into the structure over the centuries.  This wasn't a storm like any of them had ever experienced before.  No, this one was magical.

Pale faces stared up at the magical representation of the Marauder's Map that decorated the far right wall.  Enchanted by its makers, the map was now reflected at over twenty times its normal size, yet it still showed every detail of the castle and grounds.  The Marauder's Map had begun life as a youthful mischief-making tool.  Now it had become their single greatest advantage over Voldemort and his Death Eaters.  Everyone in the hall now understood its significance, and all stared at the wall, watching dots move back and forth outside the castle's exterior walls.  Despite their first victory, Hogwarts was still under siege.  Magical as the school was, the traditional rules of warfare did not apply.  Voldemort could not starve them out.  He could not burn them out.  He could not wait them out—the students and teachers could wait forever and still live in safety.  The classic tactic of forcing his way in could not be used, either, until he broke down the wards—wards, that, for the last seven hours, his Dark wizards had been conducting an all-out assault upon.  But the defenses held.

The hall was dark, except for the flickering of a few old fashioned, non-magical candles and the light from the Marauder's Map.  Every bit of inherent magic the castle possessed was being poured into the wards in Dumbledore's effort to match the brute strength so many Dark witches and wizards could muster.  Hogwarts' defenses, of course, were far from simple; they were complicated layers upon layers of wards, crafted and perfected by generations of headmasters and headmistresses.  In many ways, they were a part of the castle itself, independent from its inhabitants.  They weren't like the last-ditch and dependant wards that had been erected around the Three Broomsticks several days before—those were entirely dependant upon the caster, and drew their strength from the witch or wizard who maintained them.  Hogwarts' defenses were something else entirely, made to be unbreakable.

Unfortunately, that led to other options.  A dot labeled "Tom Riddle" had just appeared on the edges of the map, closing with the school from the direction of Hogsmeade.  Following closely behind were the names of "Lucius Malfoy"…and "Harry Potter."  Sirius took a deep breath, trying to still his racing heart.  This was something that Dumbledore had not foreseen.  He spoke quietly to the man at his left.  "You were right."

Snape growled.  "Unfortunately."

"How did you know?" Remus asked from Sirius' right.

"Because as smart as Voldemort is, he's really quiet single-minded on certain issues," the former Death Eater sneered.  "His obsession with Potter, for one.   He should have used his once chance on Dumbledore, but he had to go after the boy who defeated him by _accident_.  His ego demands it.  That, and he knows what kind of symbol Potter is to the magical world—and his followers—so he must destroy him.  Even though doing so has very little strategic value.  He doesn't expect this to work, but he expects it to divide us, and frighten those who aren't here into surrendering without a fight."

"Will it work?" Remus asked, and Sirius knew the question was for him, but he was too busy staring at his shaking hands.  It wasn't something he even wanted to think of.  _Oh, God…Harry…_  "Sirius?"

"I hope not," he replied honestly, knowing that wasn't what his best friend wanted to hear, but unable to say anything else.  _I failed James and Lily.  I won't fail Harry, too._  "That depends on Dumbledore."

"You don't think—" But without warning, an owl swept into the Great Hall, catching everyone's attention as it landed on the table where the headmaster sat, startling Dumbledore to his feet.  Sirius blinked, wondering why that would happen, but when the owl suddenly transformed into a snake, he understood.  Its hissing voice could be heard throughout the hall.

"Lower the wards, or the boy will die," the snake said.

Then it disappeared in a cloud of black ash and smoke, leaving behind only the faintest of burn marks on the polished wood of the head table.  Silence filled the Great Hall.  For a few short moments, no one dared to speak, but everyone stared at the headmaster.  The choice was his to make, now, and God help him, for whichever path he chose, he was sure to be damned for it.  Choice, it was said, was a double-edged sword.  Everything depended on this moment, and on one man's resistance.  On one boy's life.

Sirius went numb.  His hands had stopped shaking; he'd stopped feeling anything—then, from half the hall away, Dumbledore's eyes met his own, and he saw the sick worry the headmaster was feeling.  Dumbledore had just been asked to do the impossible.

Dumbledore nodded.  His eyes said it all.

Sirius nodded back.  _Do or die,_ he thought.  _Death before dishonor._

Both started to move, purposeful, focused—then Fawkes landed on the headmaster's right shoulder.  Gently, Dumbledore began to push the phoenix away, but Fawkes' irritated cry split the hall, earning him a mystified look from the headmaster.  They didn't have time for this—but the crimson and gold phoenix pecked sharply at Dumbledore's shoulder, then reached inside his robes.  When Fawkes' head came up and his black eyes stared into the old wizards' he held a wand in his golden beak, hooting softly.  It was Harry's.

Realization dawned on Dumbledore's face, and Sirius froze for the second time.  The headmaster's awed voice was very soft.  "Would you do that for me, Fawkes?"

The phoenix made a soft sound of acquiescence.

"Then go," Dumbledore whispered with tears in his eyes, and Fawkes was gone.

The Great Hall was silent for a long moment, for few grasped the significance of what had just happened.  Most, after all, could not understand why Harry's wand was such a danger to Voldemort—or exactly how desperate the situation was.  Nor did most know about the plans that had been laid in preparation for when a moment like this would come.  Dumbledore's plans were falling into place—not perfectly, of course, for no plan ever did—and Fawkes had just become the wild card.  The phoenix had, in essence, just made victory possible.

Dumbledore swung into motion, turning to face the severe woman who watched him expectantly.  He spoke quietly but firmly.  "It is time, Minerva."

She nodded; it was clear McGonagall had been briefed as well.  Then Dumbledore turned to Sirius, who knew exactly what the headmaster would say.

"We only have moments."

"Consider it done."  Three long strides took Sirius to the closest door, and he ignored it when his best friend called his name.  _Sorry, Remus, _he thought, closing the door behind himself.  He hated not telling him, but there wasn't time.  _Godfatherly duties call.  I won't fail Harry, too._

Harry stood facing Voldemort.  He knew what the Dark Lord's ultimatum had been and what Dumbledore would have to say to it.  He supposed that since using him as bait hadn't worked, Voldemort had decided to make other uses of him—but Harry thought the Dark wizard was a fool if he thought Dumbledore would give in.  He couldn't.   There was too much at stake, and the life of one person wasn't worth leaving Hogwarts open to Lord Voldemort.  Harry knew that.  Dumbledore knew that.  So where did Voldemort get off thinking it would work?

_Unless he just wants an excuse to kill me, _Harry thought to himself.  Unfortunately, that didn't help the situation much—not like much would have.  The only thing that would have made him feel better would have been having a wand (any wand, actually; it didn't even have to be his own), but Voldemort wasn't that stupid.  It wasn't that Harry really thought that he could beat him, but he would have sure liked to try.  Anything was better than being a target—which he definitely was.  A target, and a symbol.  _Is that why he bothered to bring me all the way here? _Harry wondered.  _To kill me right outside the castle walls, where everyone can see it and no one can doubt his powers?_

A chill ran down his spine as Voldemort chuckled.  Again, he was within the circle of Death Eaters, surrounded by those who wanted him dead.  This time, however, there were many more of them—hundreds, it seemed; Voldemort's legion of followers had grown immensely.  But something else was different—_Wormtail!_  Pettigrew, he suddenly noticed, was missing.  His parents' betrayer was nowhere in sight…but Harry couldn't afford to waste his time wondering what had happened to him.  He had to concentrate on Voldemort, because several minutes had passed since the Dark Lord had sent his message, and Voldemort was speaking.

"Well, it seems your life is not so dear to Dumbledore, after all, Harry," the Dark Lord chuckled.  "A pity, isn't it?  Perhaps the great Muggle-lover isn't as powerful as he would like others to believe."

"Or maybe he's just smarter than you think," Harry shot back.  He wasn't going to give in.  Not now.  He might have been as good as dead, but that didn't mean he was going to die a coward.

Voldemort's red eyes flashed.  "Your false bravado might be amusing at another time," he smiled.  "But now it is useless.  Prepare to die, Harry Potter.  It is over."

The Dark Lord brought his wand up, smiling coolly.  Harry tensed.  _Maybe if I move fast enough, _he thought desperately.  _I just might be able to…_ But what was it that Sirius had said in class?  He'd said that the Killing Curse was unblockable because it tracked the intentions of the target, and thus it was able to follow anything that the victim planned on doing.  Around him, Death Eaters laughed.

_"Avada Kedavra!"_  

Desperately, Harry twisted to the left, even knowing it wouldn't work—but he had to try.  Anything was better than dying without a fight—

Then something knocked into him, throwing Harry back in the direction that he had come from, throwing him down on his _right_ side—and even as he hit the ground, Harry saw green light flash through the spot he had _intended _to be in.  Suddenly, something landed on the ground in front of his face, and there was a whooshing sound as a shadow hovered in the air above him.  There was an eerie, spine-tingling noise, then, and he stared, knowing that sound from somewhere—Harry blinked.

"Fawkes?" Harry gasped.

Once more, it was Dumbledore's phoenix.  Eyes widening, he glanced at the ground before him, at what Fawkes had brought him.  But this time there was no sorting hat.  There was no sword.  There was only a wand—_his _wand.

"_You _again!" Voldemort shrieked.  Obviously, someone had told him about the diary incident with his younger self.  Unfortunately, though, the older Voldemort was less prone to making foolish conversation, and the Dark Lord's wand came up once more before Harry had time to grab his own.  Even as the young wizard reached his hand out, Voldemort's voice thundered, _"Avada Kedavra!"_  

Fawkes shot forward with inhuman speed.

There was a flash of green, and an unearthly phoenix scream—

And even as Harry scrambled to his feet, Fawkes fell to the ground, motionless.  Lifeless.  Dead.  _No!  _Harry's mind threatened to freeze, but he knew he had no time; Voldemort was brining his wand up once more to try the killing curse for a third time.  _It worked once—_snapping his wand up, Harry cried, _"Expelliarmus!"_

Again, the wands connected, and Harry felt his bucking wildly in his hand.  But this time the two wizards did not lift off of the ground, and the phoenix song was different—it was sad and mournful, somehow, darker and softer than before.  Golden threads of light joined the brother wands, but to Harry's surprise, there was a third focus: the dead body of Fawkes, lying on the ground between him and Voldemort.  This time, however, there seemed to be no time for the golden shell to form around them, and Voldemort seemed ready.  The Dark Lord's lips were moving furiously, and somehow Harry knew that he was working a counter-curse to free his wand.

Harry felt his wand jerk harder, and knew this time that Voldemort was going to break the connection—but then Fawkes' body burst into brilliant red and gold flames, and his wand went cold.  The connection was gone.  Instinctively, Harry knew that his wand was useless; Fawkes' death had changed everything.  He was defenseless, but so was Voldemort.  The Dark Lord turned to Malfoy.  

"Give me your wand!" Voldemort demanded.

Seconds.  It was all he had.  Seconds only would pass before Lucius Malfoy's spare wand was in Voldemort's hands (Harry remembered that Sirius still had the first one), before the Dark Lord could utter the killing curse a final time.  Harry's mind raced, searching for options, but he could see none.  The Death Eaters were closing in on him, tightening the circle, and robbing him of any chance to flee.  Cold calm crept in on Harry, and he knew it was over.  _I guess I'll be seeing Mum and Dad after all, _he thought to himself, strangely at peace with himself.

Suddenly, a crash came from behind him, and he knew that the layers of defenses surrounding Hogwarts had just come down.  _NO!  _Like the legion of Death Eaters surrounding him, Harry spun, not understanding why Dumbledore would give in.  The outer gates were open, inviting Voldemort inside, inviting attack, destruction, and death—_how could he? _Harry wondered desperately.  _I'd rather die than—_a black form had cleared the gates with amazing speed; there was something in the sky above it, both closing quickly with the circle of Death Eaters.  Even as it swept over the ground, though, the giant black dog transformed into a man.

_"Stupefy!"_

A wave of power swept over the assembled Death Eaters, knocking the ones closer to the gates unconscious, and rocking the rest.  Harry saw Voldemort stagger, but spin angrily, changing his target to Harry's godfather and raising Malfoy's wand.  But Sirius never broke stride; he kept coming—another screech split the air, followed quickly by Voldemort's cry of pain.

A great white eagle had collided with the Dark Lord, scraping its talons across his face.  Voldemort went down, clutching madly at his bleeding features with one hand as the other swung wildly, striking the eagle perhaps only by chance.  The eagle hit the ground in tandem with the Dark wizard, bouncing twice.  Its enormous wings flapped uselessly as it struggled for balance, trying to take flight once more.  Voldemort, however, howled in rage, having completely forgotten both Harry and Sirius as he kicked around on the ground.  He struggled to his feet, his left hand still clutching at his face, even as the eagle recovered its equilibrium.  Distantly, Harry heard Sirius call his name.  Voldemort's empty right hand came up. 

Empty.  Suddenly, Harry realized that Voldemort had dropped Malfoy's wand.

The eagle turned into Albus Dumbledore.

"_You_!" 

"Goodbye, Tom," Dumbledore said quietly.  His blue eyes were like ice, yet they met the gaze of the dark wizard almost mildly.  Voldemort's red eyes widened in hatred and fear.  He dove for Malfoy's wand, but Dumbledore's wand was already coming up.  His voice was quiet, but the effect was not.  _"Avada Kedavra."_  __

There was a flash of green light.  
  


----------------------

**Author's Note:   Okay…let me first say that I don't believe in any way that it won't be Harry who kills Voldemort in the end.  However, some stories tend to surprise you in the ways they turn out, and although this one pointed to Dumbledore striking the killing blow (when I originally wanted to kill him, although Fawkes wouldn't cooperate with that one), the end result is really owed to Harry and Fawkes.  They both made it possible—and I don't believe that Harry would be able to kill Voldemort at the age he is in this fic.  So all you purists out there can rest assured that I am one of you—but this story didn't want to be that way, and writing it with any other ending would not be right.  That said, thank you all for reading, and please review!  And don't worry…it's not quite over yet.**


	28. Mêlée

**DEATH BEFORE DISHONOR**

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Mêlée 

Looking back on it, Harry supposed the effect was inevitable.  As Voldemort fell dead to the ground, there were only two ways for the Death Eaters to react: either surrender, or continue the fight.  When the slender woman who had stood to Malfoy's right in the circle went for Dumbledore, the choice had obviously been made.  But she went down, shrieking, as Sirius came into range, and Harry watched Dumbledore twist out of the way of her neighbor's curse.  Then there was chaos as the other Death Eaters reacted, and he saw Malfoy reaching for the wand Voldemort had dropped, saw the circle closing in on Dumbledore—suddenly, Sirius' hand was on his shoulder, pulling him back—and more voices filled the air as the rest of the Hogwarts staff came pouring out of the open gates.

His wand was suddenly warm in his hand once more, and every defense spell he'd ever learned came to Harry's mind.  From the corner of his eye, he saw a mad-looking Death Eater advance towards Sirius' back, his eyes filled with rage.

_"Stupefy!" _he cried, and watched the man crumble, unconscious.  But his voice made other Death Eaters turn, and he saw many look to him with rage in their eyes.  Only he, Sirius, and Dumbledore were within the circle; the other teachers were still running in their direction, not yet close enough to demand the enemies' full attention.

"Keep your back to mine, Harry!" Sirius shouted over the multitude of spells in the air, and he did as he was told.

It was chaos.  Events happened too quickly for anything but reaction, and Harry cast and cast, throwing out every spell he'd ever learned, acutely aware, all the while, of his godfather doing the same at his back.  Within moments, Dumbledore had reached them, and together they formed an impromptu triangle in the very center of the mass of Death Eaters.  They should have died, and would have, had the Death Eaters possessed any cohesion at all, but from the very first moments, the Death Eaters were confused and fragmented.  With Voldemort gone, they had no leader—until Lucius Malfoy began shouting orders and the others began to respond.  There was a green flash of light.

Abruptly, the senior Death Eater's voice stopped.  Risking a glance, Harry saw that Malfoy had crumbled to the ground, lifeless and limp.  Snape had entered the fray.

Only a step behind him came Remus Lupin and Minerva McGonagall, and suddenly the odds against them weren't so bad.  The rest of the Hogwarts staff, accompanied by many faces that Harry knew:  his classmates and his friends.  But there was no time to think, only to react—and the battle went on.  Distantly, he knew when allies fell, but enemies were falling at a much faster rate.  He heard Dumbledore shouting orders, and soon the Hogwarts teachers and students had formed a line against the scattered and leaderless Death Eaters.  Harry abruptly found himself between Ron and Hermione, both of whom managed to spare him a grin even though their faces were grim with concentration.  Sirius, he noticed, had bolted away, moving towards the center of the line.

Several others joined Sirius: Snape, Remus, McGonagall, and Dumbledore, all of whom pressed forward against the Death Eaters, making the center of the Hogwarts line bulge forwards and drawing the concentration of enemy attacks.  The five of them strode forward, striking out with lethal precision that Harry could only envy.  However, he had his hands full where he stood between his friends, but no mater how tired he grew, knowing that Ron and Hermione were beside him was enough to give him strength.  Afterwards, he could never have answered to how many spells he had cast that day, but he knew that by the time the Death Eaters had surrendered, his hands were shaking with exhaustion.

As the air went quiet, Harry looked around, trying to ignore the way his head was spinning.  The Hogwarts line was ragged, now, broken here and there by fallen comrades.  But the Death Eaters numbered less than thirty, and there were many bodies lying upon the ground before them.  Some seemed merely unconscious, but others, like Voldemort and Malfoy, were clearly dead.  There were places were the previously immaculate grass was burnt and stained beyond repair, and Harry knew in that moment that the lawn would remain preserved that way as a monument to all who had fallen.  It was fitting.

The professors were moving forward, he saw, to deal with the prisoners.  Under Dumbledore's leadership, the teachers quickly began to round up the Death Eaters, sorting out the live from the dead, and Harry could see several older students being pressed into service to help.  Most of the teachers looked exhausted, but functional; some were more battered than others, but he could see the relief on their faces.  They had _won._

"Harry?  Are you okay?" It was Ron, on his right, clutching his elbow, and Harry turned to his friend.  He nodded.

"I'll be all right.  It's nothing Madam Pomfrey can't fix."  And at the moment, he did not care about his own dizziness, or about the horrible ache left from the torture he'd suffered at Voldemort's hands.  For the first time since he was eleven, he felt _free_.  There was no pain in his scar, and there never would be again.  Without meaning to, he whispered, "Is it really over?"

Ron's bruised face split into a grin.  "Yeah.  Hard to believe, isn't it?"

"Yeah."  With a shaking hand, Harry reached up to push his glasses up his nose; as usual, they'd been trying to slip off.  With a start, he realized that this was probably the first time in his life that he'd managed to _not _break his glasses while doing something like this.  "Are you all right?"

"I got a little scorched by somebody, but I'm okay," his friend replied, making Harry realize that Ron did look a little burnt around the edges.  His red hair was standing straight up, too, in a manner that was usually reserved for Harry.  For some reason, that made him laugh, which felt _wonderful. _Other than that, though, Ron looked fine, so Harry turned to his left. 

"Hermione?"

"I'm fine, Harry," she smiled, and she _looked _it.  Somehow, Hermione had managed to escape without a scratch.  He grinned in return.  _Typical_.  

"What about everyone else?" he wondered, thinking suddenly of the bodies lying on the ground.

"They didn't let anyone under the fourth year come out," Hermione explained quickly.  "Professor McGonagall left Neville in charge of the younger students."

Harry couldn't help but sigh in relief.  He could only imagine how hopeless Neville Longbottom would be in a situation like this.  As much as he cared for his fellow Gryffindor, Harry knew that Neville's clumsiness and forgetfulness would only have gotten him killed.  Suddenly, though, he thought of all the others who he hadn't seen yet, and he opened his mouth to ask of Ginny, Fred, George, and so many others when a sea of red hair converged upon him.

"Harry!" Without warning, Ginny flung her arms around his neck, making Harry stagger in surprise.  For a moment, he thought he might fall under the sudden weight, but Harry found himself laughing instead.  It felt good, so he hugged her back.  When they broke apart, it was to the sound of Ron's laughter.

"Well, I guess some things don't change," Ron quipped.

"I'd hit you if I wasn't afraid of hurting you," Ginny snapped back, and her older siblings laughed.  "I was worried about him, you prat!  And you can't say that you and Hermione didn't spend as much time moping around the castle as I did, Ronald Weasley, so don't you even think about making fun of me because of it!"

"Go, Ginny!" Fred cheered, even as his several voices asked,

"Are you all right, Harry?"

He tried to nod, but suddenly he was surrounded by more than just the many Weasleys.  Pressing in on him were Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan, Lavender Brown, Alicia Spinnet, Katie Bell, Angelina Johnson, and so many others.  They all fired questions at him, and Harry grew dizzy from trying to listen to everyone at once.   While part of him felt elated, another part of him was becoming very tired…and the attention was quickly becoming too much.  There was an emptiness inside his heart that just wouldn't stop growing, even surrounded by friends.  Desperate for a way out, Harry glanced around the field and saw Dumbledore kneeling by what remained of Fawkes' body, which although burnt, was strangely intact.

A wave of sadness swept over him, and he shoved his way through the growing crowd, unmindful of the surprised objections that followed him as he made his way to the headmaster's side.  Fortunately, though, none of his classmates tried to accompany him; they seemed to understand that he needed to do this alone.  Once he had reached the dead phoenix, though, he stood quietly, unsure of what to do.  Finally, he knelt down at the phoenix's head beside Dumbledore.  His hand shook as Harry reached out to touch Fawkes' still face.

"Fawkes…" he whispered.  How could you thank a dead phoenix for saving his life?  In his mind's eye, he saw it once more: how Fawkes had knocked him aside and dropped his wand in front of him, then how Dumbledore's phoenix had flown in front of him, taking the killing curse and saving Harry's life.  He didn't understand…

"Hello, Harry," Dumbledore said quietly.

He didn't trust himself to speak.  He only nodded, his eyes fastened on the dead bird.  Finally, he managed, "Is he really…?"

"Yes, Fawkes is really dead," the headmaster replied.  "He returns to life after a burning day…but not after this."

"Why?" Harry whispered.

Dumbledore sighed, and his sad blue eyes came up to meet his student's.  He clearly knew that Harry wasn't asking why the phoenix would not return to life.  He was asking why Fawkes had to _die_.   "I suspect there are many reasons, Harry," the headmaster replied.  "First of which, of course, is that Fawkes has always been extraordinarily fond of you." 

"What else?" There was something he was sure Dumbledore wasn't telling him, and for the first time in his life, he saw the old man hesitate.

"The second is that Fawkes did what Dumbledore was going to do," came the voice from behind him.  It was Sirius, and Harry twisted to briefly look at his godfather as his words sank in.  His head whipped around to stare at the headmaster.

"What?"

Dumbledore rose, and so did Harry, who barely felt Sirius' hands land on his shoulders, but was glad for the comfort all the same.  The headmaster gave Sirius a stern glance for a moment, but smiled slightly at Harry.  "You noticed, of course, that my animagus form is that of an eagle?" he asked, eliciting a nod from Harry.  "As such, I was the only one who would have been able to reach you in time—not that such a small thing as speed would have kept your godfather from trying, of course."

"But you would have—?"

"Yes," the headmaster replied simply.

Harry stared.  "Then who would have killed Voldemort?"

Dumbledore only nodded towards Sirius, and once more, Harry twisted around to look at his godfather, who responded, "Believe me, Harry, that we were working every moment to save you," Sirius said softly.  "We only knew that Voldemort expected us to attack him in Hogsmeade, and knew that would be suicide…I'm so sorry that we could not do so sooner."

 "He said I was bait for one of you," Harry nodded.  Sirius squeezed his shoulders gently, but he turned to face Dumbledore once more, demanding, "You would have died for me?"

"I would have," Dumbledore said levelly, his blue eyes meeting Harry's.  "As it turned out, though, Fawkes took that option out of my hands.  He chose to do so instead."

Harry was shaking again, and he didn't know if it was from emotion or exhaustion.  "I don't understand."

"Nor do I, Harry," the headmaster replied quietly, and then Dumbledore stepped forward to lay a hand on his shoulder.  "But what really matters, in the end, is that the war is over.  Voldemort is dead this time, and although many died to defeat him, what we can do best is to rebuild the world well enough to honor their memories.  Let us use well the future they have given us, and let us have peace."

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**Author's Note:   First, let me say thank you for all the wonderful reviews!  You've all been great about supporting this story, which is my first foray into Harry Potter fan fiction.  It's been great fun, and is almost over now (but not yet!).  Thank you again for reading, and please tell me what you think!**

**            Oh, and if anyone is interested in a sequel, let me know.  I've a few vague plot bunnies rumbling around in my head, so I might be persuaded to write one after I finish the massive project known as _Promises Unbroken_.  Please review! **


	29. Epilogue: The Sixth Year

**DEATH BEFORE DISHONOR**

Epilogue: The Sixth Year 

Stepping off the Hogwarts Express, the first thing Harry heard was the familiar voice saying, "Firs' years!  Firs' years over here!"

To his right, the giant form of Hagrid was waving his arms, gathering in Hogwarts' newest students for their ride across the lake.  Harry grinned, exchanging looks with Ron and Hermione; it was good to be back, even though they knew that Hogsmeade station had been completely renovated over the summer holidays to repair the damage done to it during Voldemort's stay in the Wizarding village.  Students poured off the train, heading for the horseless carriages under the watchful eyes of the school prefects, head boy, and head girl.  It was another school year, and it was still Hogwarts.

One thing about the journey was different, however.  Instead of going through the gates with their usual speed, the carriages slowed, allowing each student to see the plaque erected just outside the gates.  It read:

_In memorandum:_

_Professor Filius Flitwick_

_Professor Annia Vector_

_Madam Rolanda Hooch_

__

_Cho Chang_

_Lee Jordan_

_Parvati Patil_

_Stephen Cornfoot_

_Ernie McMillian_

_Susan Bones_

_Tracey Davis_

_Derek Harper_

_Justin Finch-Fletchley_

_Colin Creevy_

_Gone, but never forgotten._

_We shall always be in your debt._

****

**HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCRAFT AND WIZARDRY**

The older students were more subdued than usual as they reached the Great Hall, but they filed in and took their seats, leaving empty spaces at each table to commemorate the dead who should have still been at their sides.  This had become practice in the last school year as friends and housemates mourned those lost in the final battle against Voldemort.  _Gone, but never forgotten_, the plaque outside the gates read, and it was true, because, for Harry and the others, those who had died were more than just names inscribed in bronze.  They were remembered.

Conversation, however, picked up as the first years were lead into the hall by the Deputy Head_master_, Severus Snape.  Finally free of his age-old role, Snape had seemed to soften, somewhat, towards the end of the last year; although he would certainly never _like _Harry, and nor would Harry ever call the oily Potions master his favorite professor, Snape had become less the terror of the school and more like the other professors.  He still, of course, accepted absolutely no nonsense in class, but even the Gryffindors could deal with that.  Snape, however, was not the only part of Hogwarts that had changed, which was made clear as the sorting ended and the Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall rose.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," she said with a smile.  "Let the feast begin."

Even though the words were slightly less eccentric than the older students were accustomed to, they had the same result.  With a wave of her hand, the plates on each table filled with food, and even as he dug in, Harry contemplated the other changes the Magical world had seen over the past year.

Even with Voldemort gone, there was still much to do.  Cornelius Fudge had been eager to resume his role as the Minster of Magic (after hiding his head in the sand during all the final battles), and for quite a while, it had seemed as if he would be allowed to.  After all, Fudge had never actually resigned, and when the Minister stepped forward, trying to pick up the pieces, many were willing to let him, because they were that eager to have a semblance of normality applied to the world.  Dumbledore, however, came out against Fudge once more, and took the job that people had been trying for over fifteen years to give him.  Fudge, embarrassed, outclassed, and disgraced, disappeared.

The Ministry had quickly hunted down the remaining Death Eaters (most of them had been with Voldemort in the final battle, so there really were very few left to find), and had then concentrated on reforming Azkaban.  After the Dementor's abrupt change of loyalties, no one dared argue when Dumbledore yanked the prison out of Dementor hands and instead staffed the place with carefully trained witches and wizards.  Following that, of course, what remained of the Aurors had been turned against the Dementors themselves, and although Harry did not know where Dumbledore had sent them, he was certain that the Dementors would never have a place in the magical world again.

Sirius had taken a leave of absence for the second half of the year, helping Arabella Figg reorganize the gutted Auror Division of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and hunt the Dementors down.  The entire school had been sorry to see their Defense Against the Dark Arts professor go, and only the promise of his return this term had kept the students from mutinying when his classes were split between Professor Snape and Professor Lupin.  Snape, of course, _did _know an awful lot about the Dark Arts, even though Harry was beginning to understand that he'd never really wanted the job because he hated the Dark Arts with a passion even Sirius couldn't match.  It was odd, learning that subject from a former Death Eater, but Harry supposed that signified that the world had gone full circle once again.

As the year ended, things got even stranger.  Fred and George Weasley were good to their word and applied for Auror training; with Sirius' recommendation, they were accepted into the program and went into training while those still in school were on holiday.  Mrs. Weasley had tried to talk them out of it, but Lee Jordan's death had made both twins determined to ensure that never happened to anyone else, and no amount of screaming or pleading on their mother's part could talk them out of it.  In the end, she'd had to admit how proud of them she was and wish them luck.  At least, she said, it was better than a joke shop—until the twins started talking about what they would do after retirement.

The summer holidays, however, could not have been better.  During a brief trip to the Dursleys' (simply to pick up a few things), Harry got to gleefully tell his relatives that he would never be back.  From there, he ended up in Sirius' family home, which his godfather had found out (much to Sirius' surprise) was still in his name.  The Black Manor (there was simply nothing else to call it) was like nothing Harry had ever seen before.  While Sirius had told him that it had been a bit run-down when he'd gotten it back, by the time Harry moved in that summer, the house was nothing but wonderful.  He and Sirius had, of course, redecorated, but no matter what the place looked like, it was home.  It was the first real home Harry had ever known. 

He'd also gotten to experience a real birthday party for the first time, which included (unknown to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, he hoped) a little bit of illegal magical pranks that he, Ron, and Hermione had indulged in.  So had Ginny, for that matter, but who was he to quibble with particulars?  Sirius and Remus had turned a rather obvious "blind" eye when all the notices from the Ministry had shown up, and there had been no harm done.  They _were _sixteen, after all, and if they couldn't break a few rules, what use was living?  Regardless, the party Sirius had arranged had been nothing but breathtaking, and it had taken Harry days to recover from all the fun.  Spending half the summer Floo-ing between Sirius', Remus', the Burrow, and Hermione's house had been fun, too, and the trouble they had gotten in together had been unbelievable.

Also interesting, but not much to Harry's surprise, had been the announcement that Ron and Hermione were dating.  He'd laughed when they'd finally screwed up the courage to tell him, and simply asked why it took so long.  Ron, however, turned beat red and demanded to know why _Harry _was so oblivious to certain other things.  Hermione just slapped Harry, and all the world was right.

Harry and Ginny had started dating less than forty-eight hours later.

When he'd left for King's Cross that morning, Harry had laughed his way out the door, dodging owls as he went.  As usual, Sirius was besieged by requests to head the Auror Division—Arabella Figg, the current head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, sent him at least two owls a day, and even after he'd said no a hundred times, she showed no sign of letting up.  Sirius, however, had promised to return to Hogwarts for at least another year and would make good on that promise, seeing how he had to prove that the Defense Against the Dark Arts job wasn't jinxed enough to keep _him_ away.  Harry had hitched a ride to the station with the Weasleys (it seemed to be tradition, after all), but he knew that Sirius would be at Hogwarts.  A glance at the head table did not disappoint him, either.  Sometimes, the more things changed, the more they remained the same.

"Harry?" Ginny asked at his side.  "You home in there?"

Her voice started him out of his reverie.  "I'm here.  Just thinking."

"About what?"

Harry smiled.  "Just that it's good to be back."

----------------------

**Author's Note:   So it ends…although I will probably be writing a sequel, as per requests.  Thanks for all the great reactions I've gotten.  It's tentatively titled _Summer of Hope_, but we'll see what happens.  First, I must finish _Promises Unbroken_, which I have also updated today.**

**            That being said, thank you for all the wonderful encouragement that you've given since this fic began.  It was indeed my very first _Harry Potter _fiction, and I can now happily say that this is the most friendly and wonderful fandom I've ever written in.  You guys are great!  Thanks for reading, and please review! **


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